


Binary Sunset

by jedia_lo21



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedia_lo21/pseuds/jedia_lo21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before his fight with the Sith on Naboo, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn is transported thirty years into the future on Tatooine. The force feels strangely unbalanced and frightening tales of an empire are whispered secretly among the people. But there is also a force sensitive on this planet. The locals call him Crazy Old Ben...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Future

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】双落日](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092506) by [Jiaoye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiaoye/pseuds/Jiaoye)



> I have no idea why I actually spent my whole day writing this haha. I had a dream about this so I sat down and pumped out 5500 words in the first chapter so...Hope any of you guys reading this will like it. The writing gets really terrible toward the end because I was just so tired of writing so...sorry...:)
> 
> I'm probably going to look at this later and go, "What the freaking hell did I just write?"
> 
> Please have mercy on me. First fan fiction and I don't have an editor and stuff so...

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn stood straight, hands clasped behind his back as he listened to the queen relay her plans to her bodyguard and captain of the royal army. Queen Amidala sat in the center of the throne room aboard the Naboo starship, face calm, almost unreadable. Two handmaidens flanked her on either side of the grand throne, dressed in the warm orange hues that complimented the planet they hailed from. 

_“As soon as we land, the Federation will arrest you and force you to sign the treaty.”_ Captain Panaka’s voice came anxious but firm as he implored his queen to rethink her plans. It was suicide to enter Naboo’s atmosphere head-on with no army. Just two Jedi knights, a few pilots, Panaka himself, and a _droid_.

Qui-Gon forced down a sigh. Their rescue of the queen would be for nothing if she was captured again and forced to accept the Federation’s treaty. He didn’t want to risk his newest charge’s life in the inevitable conflict. Anakin Skywalker- the Chosen One. His potential Padawan if only the Jedi Council would see reason and follow the will of the Force.  

_“I agree. I’m not sure what you wish to accomplish by this,”_ Qui-Gon murmured.

The queen’s eyes narrowed determinedly, _“I will take back what is ours.”_

Qui-Gon admired her resolve but he still felt uneasy at the idea of risking Ani’s life. The boy wasn’t trained in the Jedi arts, couldn’t protect himself with a lightsaber and the force if needed.

_“I can only protect you. I can’t fight a war for you,”_ he reminded the queen instead. While he was considered somewhat of a maverick by the Jedi Order, disregarding the code for the Force’s will, it suited his purpose now. Anakin had to be protected at all costs.

 Qui-Gon couldn’t miss the almost imperceptible tightening of his current Padawan’s shoulders. Shock flared through their bond before Obi-Wan snapped his shields in place. Qui-Gon nearly smiled. Obi-Wan was a religious follower of the Jedi Code, unwavering in respect for the Jedi Order and especially its council. In the beginning of their Master/Padawan days, Qui-Gon had worried that Obi-Wan’s said devotion would impede their fledgling bond.

While Qui-Gon lived in the moment, backed by the fierce will of the living force, his Padawan took calculated, logical actions, guided by the confusion that _was_ the unifying force. However, their strengths and weaknesses complimented each other so greatly that their bond had become one of the strongest in the Jedi Order.

Qui-Gon’s heart pained at the thought of losing Obi-Wan. Perhaps he was selfish to want to keep his Padawan by his side forever. He couldn’t imagine a mission without the accompaniment of his loyal, cleverly-witty boy. But Obi-Wan deserved to live his life unshackled by his Master’s desires. He was certainly capable of becoming a Knight, had been for some time. And now Qui-Gon had a reason for taking on Anakin as his apprentice and ushering Obi-Wan on toward his future.

The queen turned and addressed Jar Jar Binks. Qui-Gon winced as the Gungan tripped forward, “ _Meesa, your highness?”_

Obi-Wan often expressed a sort of exasperated tolerance for Qui-Gon and his “pathetic life forms.” The Jedi Master was always bringing in some plant or stray into their apartments. It was always because of a prompting from the force to help those slighted souls. But Qui-Gon couldn’t help but wonder if he had _indeed_ felt prompted to save the clumsy Gungan’s life. Thinking back on it, he really hadn’t. What an appalling mistake.

The queen did not explain in detail her plans for Jar Jar. From what Qui-Gon surmised, the ship would be landing deep into Gungan territory and abandoned to the Federation while they sought council with Boss Nass. After that, the entire crew was unsure what the queen’s next move would be. Frankly, everyone felt it best to stay away from the Gungans period. Jar Jar was enough even for Qui-Gon and his Jedi patience.

With the meeting adjourned, Qui-Gon turned to his apprentice and they began to filter out of the throne room. “It will likely be a few hours before we reach Naboo, plenty of time for rest. We don’t know what we’ll encounter upon our arrival.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, master.”

Qui-Gon held back a grimace. Ever since the unfortunate council meeting when Qui-Gon announced his plans to take Anakin Skywalker as his Padawan, their relationship had become cold and tense. Obi-Wan wasn’t his usual self, amusing, humorous and relaxed. His Padawan was now distant and quiet. When he spoke, it was in sharp one-word sentences. Qui-Gon despaired at Obi-Wan’s anger.

 Deep down he knew why Obi-Wan was so formal toward him. It was Anakin. “Another pathetic life form” Obi-Wan had called the Chosen One. But he, like the council, didn’t understand Ani’s importance. The boy would bring balance to the force, Qui-Gon was sure of that. Obi-Wan would understand eventually. He hadn’t been replaced by the Tatooinian child.

_Besides,_ Qui-Gon thought, _Obi-Wan is ready for Knighthood._ _I have kept him by my side too long._

“Obi-Wan,” the Jedi Master reached for his Padawan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan sidestepped Qui-Gon’s hand. The silence that followed was unbearable and all the while Qui-Gon’s heart was surging as his Padawan avoided his touch. “I’m going to check on Anakin and make sure he settles in,” Qui-Gon murmured quietly.

Obi-Wan turned slightly toward the Jedi, eyes narrowed at the mention of the boy’s name. “Fine, Master.”

Qui-Gon bristled a bit at his Padawan’s disrespect, but before he could scold his apprentice, Obi-Wan had turned away and proceeded down the ship’s corridor. A long sigh escaped him. How could he make this right?

He wanted Obi-Wan and Anakin to get along more than anything. They would be brothers, both Padawans under the same master. Obi-Wan, an older brother, guiding Anakin along through his Jedi training, teaching him the secrets that brothers kept behind knowing smirks and laughter. But it seemed that dream was not meant to be. Obi-Wan was cold to the boy. He had no desire to get to know Ani. And the Tatooinian child seemed put off by Obi-Wan’s disgruntled looks. They both stayed away from each other if they could.

Qui-Gon proceeded to the Main Hold where Anakin was curled up beneath the Tech station, swathed in thick blankets he must have asked the handmaidens for. Anakin brightened immediately as the Jedi walked in. He struggled up out of the heavy blankets and launched himself at the tall figure. “Master Qui-Gon sir!”

The Jedi Master chuckled and pat Anakin’s shoulder, “What have you been up to, Ani?”

The boy smiled widely. “Well, first I went to the royal quarters to talk to Padmè, but the other handmaidens said she was sleeping so I walked around the ship for a little bit. One of the pilots let me go up into the cockpit, it was so wizard! He even said I can go back later and help _fly the ship_!”

Qui-Gon smiled at the boy’s excitement, “That’s wonderful, Ani.”

The Jedi Master settled against the wall next to Anakin and the two discussed arbitrary things. Anakin shared his interest in the hyperdrive mechanisms and how he built the protocol droid he left for Shmi on Tatooine. That led to the young boy expressing his sadness and fear over leaving his mother.

Qui-Gon gently placed his arm around Anakin’s shoulders. “Fear not, my young friend. The force has willed you to be here. Focus on this moment, Ani, and the Force will take care of the rest in its own time.”

The Chosen One nodded and yawned, curling up into the large Jedi’s frame. Qui-Gon watched fondly as he nodded off. The boy was a pure soul. Although his care for Shmi could be seen as an attachment, Qui-Gon wondered if that was for the best. Ani had grown up a slave. His mother had been the only sure foundation, only means of care the child had in the world. To be separated from the only love he knew gave him the right to despair. The council be damned if they said otherwise.

Qui-Gon stood, lifting the small child into his arms. With regret, he lowered Anakin gently into his blankets, tucking the warm cloth around the boy’s slightly trembling frame. “It will get better, young one. I promise,” he murmured.

Qui-Gon returned to the quarters he shared with Obi-Wan. The door opened with a soft hiss and the Jedi Master stepped into darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the dark cabin space, he spotted his Padawan curled up in his cot against the ship wall. A smile graced the Jedi Master’s lips.

Obi-Wan slept like a child half his age, endearingly curled into a small ball against whatever wall his bed was pushed up against. Qui-Gon moved toward his apprentice and marveled at how young Obi-Wan seemed in sleep.

His Padawan’s face smoothed out from the stresses of the day. His long braid rested against his cheek and his mouth was slightly open drawing in deep, heavy breaths. Qui-Gon was struck again by the sheer depressing pain at the thought of losing his child. His boy. His _light._

“I wish you would forgive me, little one. I know not how I’ve grieved you. I long for the days we once spoke truthfully to one another.” Qui-Gon gently stroked Obi-Wan’s hair as he spoke, delighting in the soft sensation and the comfort it brought. Like the warmth of nostalgia.

The boy sighed in his sleep softly and Qui-Gon’s heart warmed at the sound.

A sudden jolt rocked the ship so hard it almost sent the Jedi Master crashing into his sleeping Padawan. Qui-Gon steadied himself against the upper wall of the ship.

What was going on? Were they emerging from hyperspace?

Another rough shake jerked him to his knees. Qui-Gon reached to steady his apprentice, but Obi-Wan still slept soundly as if the ship wasn’t rocking at all.

Qui-Gon pulled himself from the floor of the ship and stumbled to the doors of their quarters. He wondered if one of the crew members would sprint out, racing down the halls to tell them something was wrong with the hyperdrive core or they were being attacked. But no one was in the corridors. In fact it seemed almost peaceful.

Through the force, Qui-Gon felt the gentle stillness of the crew dispersed throughout the ship. Their signatures were passive, not on alert. Nothing seemed to be the matter.

But deep down, Qui-Gon could feel the mild stirring of the Force, like a giant beast lulled slowly awake, uncoiling from slumber. There was no bright warning from it, but the Jedi Master could feel the Force’s anticipation. Something was definitely about to happen.

The ship jolted again, shuddering more violently than it had before. Qui-Gon braced himself against the wall as the ship shook. His teeth seemed to rattle in his mouth, his limbs quivered, dangerously close to giving out.

A deep rumble echoed through the ship’s corridors, vibrating loud in Qui-Gon’s ears. There was a crashing noise sounding over and over in his head. It was a cacophony of sounds, howls resonating physically through the force. Qui-Gon gritted his teeth as the ship seemed to roll beneath him. The Jedi Master grasped desperately for the Force, but it twisted out of his reach.

Qui-Gon felt no fear, only confusion as the Force coiled around him, filling the atmosphere around the ship’s corridor with a fretful eagerness. The Jedi Master had no time to prepare as the Force lashed out at him, physically and mentally slamming him backwards.

Qui-Gon’s head struck the wall behind him and everything went black.

A bright spear of light sheared the darkness in the Jedi Master’s mind. With a groan, Qui-Gon rubbed his forehead as a heavy pain settled between his eyes. It hurt to move, to raise his hand, to _think._ But as the seconds ticked on, the Jedi became aware of the dryness in his throat and the unbearable heat scathing his skin.

Qui-Gon’s eyes cracked open and the light grew brighter, crashing down on his pupils with burning fire. The Jedi groaned and closed his eyes again, pain flaring more insistently in his head. Qui-Gon slowly opened his burning eyes, millimeters at a time as they adjusted to the brightness around him.

There was pure blue sky above him. No clouds graced the pale sight. Qui-Gon slowly sat up, tensing a bit as the aching between his eyes increased.

Shock filled his core.

There was sand everywhere. Piling in large and small dunes ahead, shifting in small desert breezes, scratching his skin and buried deeply in his clothes.

But it was the twin suns hanging brilliantly in the sky that astonished the Jedi Master more than anything.

He was on Tatooine.

How in the force was he on _Tatooine_?

Qui-Gon hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the protesting joints in his body worn by age. He turned every which way, glaring far out into the horizon in all directions. There seemed to be no civilization in sight anywhere. The Naboo starship he had once been on was gone.

With a sigh, Qui-Gon concentrated on the Force, wondering absently if it would lash out at him again and send the Jedi to Coruscant or Mandalore or some other planet. The Force was quiet but smug as Qui-Gon questioned its motives. It nudged him gently forward instead.

Great.

Exasperated, Qui-Gon focused on choosing a direction to walk. If this was a vision, something would present itself in time.

The Jedi slowly trudged through the heavy sand, drawing his cowl further over his head as sand whipped and stung his eyes and cheeks.

The time passed along with Qui-Gon’s surety that he was stuck in a vision. Surely one would not last so long and waste itself on a journey through desert sands?

 Just as Qui-Gon was about to stop and prompt the force again, he caught sight of a bright spark in the distant sands beyond. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes as the flicker materialized slowly into an oncoming speeder.

The Jedi Master sighed in relief and raised his hands to signal the cruising vehicle. As it drew closer, Qui-Gon was able to pick out its driver- a tall humanoid with graying hair. The speeder drew to a stop only feet away from Qui-Gon and the driver offered him a smile.

“Ye mus be new here, eh, buddy?” The voice came rough from cracked lips. “Any sane fella woudna sleep out under this ol hot desert sun. Not unless they wan death. Or too damned drunk ta move.”

Qui-Gon managed to smile at the barely perceptible words from the old man. “Regrettably, I have no idea where I am on this planet.”

Two gray, bushy eyebrows rose. “Ah, yer traipsin’ through the Xelric Draw. Few clicks from Mos Espa.”

Qui-Gon crossed his arms. “Well, my friend. I am unfortunately new here on this planet. Will you point me in the direction of this town?”

The old man cackled. “Ah, a damn polite drunk ye are. Get on here, stranger. I’ll take ye.” Before Qui-Gon could raise any protestations, the old driver rolled his eyes. “I’m headin’ there myself. Won’t do no good fer ye ta die out here in this damn heat. Yer a nice fella fer a strange man wearin’ strange clothes. The name’s B’omar.”

The Jedi Master shook B’omar’s wrinkled hand politely. “I thank you for your hospitality. I am Qui-Gon Jinn.”

B’omar shot him an amused look, “A drunk, _offworlder_ , if I do say so myself, Qui Jinny.”

   It seemed the Force was made to punish him. All the patience in the world, every Jedi calming technique and code in existence were not enough to keep Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn from drumming his fingers on the beige material of his leggings.

B’omar was bent on sharing every detail of his life to the “drunk offworlder”, Qui Jinny. He droned on and on about moisture vaporators, Corellian liquor, _bantha herds._ And Qui-Gon was the unfortunate soul the old man could confide in.

The Jedi Master knew patience was the foundation of the Force. One needed to express serenity in order to feel the gentle tendrils of the force wrapping around all life forms. Patience was the only sure way to hear its promptings.

But Qui-Gon couldn’t understand why the Force remained a quiet hum in the background of his mind. It seemed content to let the Jedi Master figure out his next actions on his own and dispense of his irritation without its help.

He was alone.

Except, of course, B’omar was with him. This old man seemed like an interpretation of the equally irritating Jar Jar Binks.

The Force had an unnaturally cruel sense of humor.

On the horizon, Qui-Gon spotted the first signs of life as the tops of large Synth-stone buildings appeared in the distance. He sat up quickly and tried to release his anticipation and relief into the absent force.

Serenity. He must show serenity.

B’omar turned toward him and grinned, “Welcome ta Mos Espa, Qui Jinny.”

Mos Espa was a large city for Tatooine. Humans and offworlders alike milled about the streets of the metropolis, carrying various foods or items, driving speeders or leading large draft animals around the clustered buildings, Qui-Gon recognized some of the numerous domed buildings of the port city he and the Nabooian handmaiden had walked around looking for ship parts.

But it seemed the city had changed immensely in the short amount of time since he’d been here. There were numerous areas that Qui-Gon couldn’t remember if he’d seen or not.

B’omar steered the speeder away from pedestrian traffic and Qui-Gon gratefully stepped off the vehicle. With a smile and a wave, the old man shot away into the distant city, echoes of “good day, Qui Jinny” rebounding in the Jedi’s ears.

Qui-Gon sighed in relief and the ache between his eyes settled as all traces of B’omar disappeared. Now he could focus and perhaps the Force would grant him some guidance.

The last thing he remembered was milling about the Naboo starship, despairing at the plight between his Padawan and future Padawan. The force must have sent him away in a vision when he fell unconscious, struck against the wall of the ship during that awful shaking.

It seemed he’d been sent to Tatooine to learn something the Force wasn’t ready to give him all at once.

In fact, it was prompting him to get a drink, it seemed. Qui-Gon was unknowingly walking toward the Mos Espan cantina as he drowned himself in the Force. It nudged him entreatingly along toward the bar, suddenly satisfied to direct him now.

The Cantina was not a refreshing air to walk into. In fact, it felt unbearably hotter in the low-lit room filled with drunk, stinking bodies. Upbeat music played somewhat quietly in the background, covered by the lazy hum of voices discussing trades in the city.

Qui-Gon made his way to the bar’s counter and took an empty seat. He disliked the scene of a cantina and never felt the need to visit bars unless a mission required it. He didn’t drink alcohol, content with the gratifying warmth and bitter taste of teas. And cantinas invited trouble always. Jedi crave no excitement.

The bartender slid a cup skillfully in his direction. Qui-Gon peered distastefully at the brown, sloshing liquid, letting his fingers trace the rim of the cup. The bartender raised an eyebrow and leaned toward him, “Usually folks with a long face drain their first cup.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a drinker,” Qui-Gon replied and met the bartender’s eyes casually.

The bartender smiled, “Ah. You come here to listen to the trade gossip then? Sometimes the successful ones spill their greatest secrets when they’re drunk.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but smile at the man’s honesty. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a businessman either.”

The bartender’s eyes scanned the Jedi Master’s figure. “I’m interested to know what you are doing here then, my friend. It’s not often we get visitors so opposed to a drink or two.”

Qui-Gon shrugged, “I’m not sure myself why I’m here.”

The bartender’s eyes twinkled. “A traveler, then. Tell me, wanderer, do you bring any news from the core worlds? Word travels slow to the Outer Rim. Everyone on Tatooine would like to know the 'going-on's of the galactic empire. Bribing the stationed stormtroopers here brings little news and-”

Qui-Gon interrupted, “I’m sorry… _empire_?” As far as the Jedi Master knew, the Republic was democratic. No planets in the core worlds would follow such a government. Especially the Jedi.

The bartender gave him a confused look. “Perhaps you come from the far reaches of the Outer Rim, then? I’m sure everyone is aware of the empire.”

Qui-Gon found himself nodding even as he concentrated on the force. This was certainly a strange vision and he was having a difficult time trying to figure out the Force’s will behind it all. This was the problem with the Unifying Force. It delighted too much in trickery and riddles.

The bartender sighed. “I don’t know why you have no knowledge of the empire so I’ll explain it to you.” He leaned in closer to Qui-Gon and whispered, “About twenty years ago the Republic fell and, in its place, the Galactic Empire rose. Chancellor Palpatine declared himself Emperor after the end of the Clone Wars to ensure safety and security. Well he was wrong. We all were. It seems we just traded in one Dark Age for another.”

The man’s words did nothing to abate Qui-Gon’s confusion. In fact, they seemed to increase his bewilderment. But since this was only a Force vision, he would play along. “Why did the Jedi not do anything, then, to stop the rise of this empire?”

The bartender sucked in a harsh breath and stumbled back a step. He narrowed his eyes furiously at Qui-Gon. “Do not _ever_ utter _that_ word in my Cantina again! Do you want the empire storming into my business and destroying everything I’ve built here? Maybe you don’t know anything at all about the galaxy we live in now so I will warn you only _once_. Otherwise, I’m throwing you out of my Cantina, regardless of your civility!”

Qui-Gon was taken aback by the bartender’s sudden change in temperament. He honestly didn’t mean to offend the man. The Force was taking this vision into uncomfortably real consideration.

“Forgive me. I did not wish to offend you,” he murmured and layered his words with the force to ease the man’s growing discontent.

The bartender relaxed visibly. “I don’t know how you’ve made it alive in this galaxy, my friend. But I will tell you that to stay that way, you will never discuss the old order again. The empire detests any mention of…of the… _Jedi_.” His voice dropped instantly to a whisper. “The day the Republic fell was the day the Jedi were annihilated. Emperor Palpatine uncovered a plot by the Order to destroy the Republic and Senate. Apparently there was an attempted assassination too. The entire Jedi Order was hunted down and defeated.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed. “By whom?”

“Oh, in the beginning, it was the clone troopers. They stormed the Jedi temple and wiped out everyone in side. The few that escaped were hunted down by the Emperor’s right-hand man… _Darth Vader_.” The bartender visibly shuddered.

Qui-Gon sat back, appalled. This vision was growing darker by the minute. It seemed impossible to even _consider_ that the entire Jedi Order was gone. A cold weight settled in the pit of the Jedi Master’s stomach. He couldn’t imagine the murder of so many Jedi Knights, Padawans, and… _Younglings_. It was too horrific to even think about. Even the Force recoiled away from those painful thoughts.

“There are no surviving Jedi?” Qui-Gon asked, almost desperately. Inside his mind, the Force was screaming, roiling in distress. There was so much loss and pain in this reality. Qui-Gon realized with a start why the Force seemed subdued, reticent, _pained._ There were no Jedi in the galaxy. The death of so many Force Sensitives had sent the Force into grieving secrecy.

The bartender sighed. “It’s been years since the Empire broadcasted an uncovered Jedi. I’m afraid their Order is gone, my friend. The force has left this galaxy.”

Qui-Gon shuddered and reached for the Force. He wanted to return to reality. This vision was quite enough. There was nothing to learn in this torture of a world. Everything in this galaxy seemed cold and dark. The Force itself appeared heavy and veiled. It was confusing to peruse.

The Dark Side reigned here.

But the Force, although skittish, offered a passing thought.

_Fear not, my young friend. The force has willed you to be here. Focus on this moment and the Force will take care of the rest in its own time._

Those were the words he had comforted Anakin with. They comforted him as well. _Live in the moment_ , he scolded himself. The Force did not ever truly abandon anyone. It was as old as time itself and its time worked differently. He just needed to be patient until the Force revealed its intentions.

The bartender offered him a sad smile. “There is, however, an old man that lives somewhere out near the Jundland Wastes. The locals call him Crazy Old Ben. They say he’s a wizard, able to move things without touching them, calm down blood-thirsty beasts with the touch of a hand, and predict the comings of sandstorms. It’s all just nonsense, of course. The poor man is probably insane from living alone out in the desert. But there are rumors…”

Qui-Gon sighed, “Rumors do no good if they aren’t the truth. They are best forgotten. But perhaps I shall speak to this Old Ben.”

The bartender nodded, “Good luck on your travels then, my friend. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Qui-Gon nodded in return and stood up, only to freeze and look back. “This Old Ben wouldn’t also go by the same alias as B’omar, would he?”

The bartender halted in surprise and shook his head. “No. As far as I know, Old Ben doesn’t mill about in his speeder terrorizing the locals. You know B’omar?”

Qui-Gon grimaced. “I seem to have met him. He offered me a ride here.”

The bartender grinned, “Ah, apologies then. B’omar is my uncle. The poor old man has lost his head, you know. I let him have the speeder so he stays away from my customers. He puts off everyone he meets.”

Qui-Gon nodded, “Well, then, thank-you.”

The owner of the Cantina dipped his head and turned to serve another customer.

Qui-Gon sighed as he stepped out of the dim Cantina and into the bright Tatooine air. Mos Espa was as crowded and treacherous as ever. The Force vision held no signs of letting up. Apparently he was right, then to suspect he would have to find this Crazy Old Ben. Perhaps the hermit would have some answers for this confusing riddle of a revelation.

It was very difficult to ask for directions in such a place as Mos Espa. The travelers moving about had no time to point out the direction of the Jundland Wastes and were even more opposed to taking Qui-Gon there. Apparently the area was ripe with Tusken Raiders and there was almost no life there. Ironic for a desert scene but Qui-Gon didn’t argue.

He was about to give up asking various shopkeepers and locals when an old woman beckoned him to her run-down stall. Good-naturedly, she drew him an almost unreadable map in the sand and directed the path he should take to get there without hassle. However, she warned, the Sand People flood the Wastes there. It was almost suicide to traverse there.

The Jedi Master thanked her with a humble bow and began to wander the streets. The Force seemed more inclined to guide him now after he had accepted the fact that he was stuck in this vision. So it wasn’t long waiting until a familiar old speeder hustled recklessly through the streets of the port city. Qui-Gon awaited it with a half-smile.

B’omar peered at him from the speeder with a wide grin. “Hello, there, Qui Jinny. So happy ta see ya.”

Qui-Gon nodded, “Yes. I need to borrow your speeder, B’omar.”

The old man gave him a confused look, “Sorry, Qui Jinny but I don understand-”

Qui-Gon waved his hand knowingly, wrapping the force around his words and drawing deeply on the old man’s consciousness. “Yes you do. You want to give me your speeder.”

B’omar nodded, eyes glazed as the Force gently twisted his will, “I want to give you my speeder.”

Qui-Gon nodded gratefully.

Now the journey seemed to fly much smoother. The Force was satisfied that the Jedi Master was following its guidance. The speeder flashed along the Tatooine desert ground, aided by Qui-Gon’s steering and the Force pushing it along firmly like the wind in a sail.

The bright Tatooine sky was almost blinding as it reflected the light of the twin suns onto the white deserts of the planet. It was almost lonely surrounded by nothing but desert on all sides. Everywhere he looked there was only sand and sand dunes. But Qui-Gon was content.

Wrapped in the tendrils of the Living Force, the Jedi Master lived in this moment. He was focused not on reaching this Old Ben, but on the gentle humming of the speeder and the aura of peace that settled on him from the Force.

It was because he was so wrapped in the Force that he felt a twinge as it warned him of danger. Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped ahead, scanning the Tatooine desert for peril. His body tensed and he moved aside impossibly fast as the bullet struck the spot he had just been sitting in.

The Jedi Master leaped out of the still-moving speeder, drawing his lightsaber from his belt in the split-second it took him to land. More shots came and Qui-Gon furiously repelled the bullets with his saber. The twirl of the blade was deadly accurate and sure. He was ensconced so deeply in the force he could predict the next hit of every bolt as they came inches away from hitting him.

At last the Tuskens made their appearance, scrambling quickly out from various sand hills and rock structures they had so skillfully hidden in. They raised their rifles and sticks high into the air, letting out victorious shouts as they launched themselves at their next victim.

Qui-Gon raised his saber determinedly.

The scream that followed wasn’t a Tusken war cry.

It was a chilling shriek, so loud that the ground rumbled beneath their feet, shifting pebbles and sand as the glorious cry crescendoed unbearably loud. Qui-Gon shuddered as the painful screech reverberated through his ear drums. Silence descended suddenly as the sound abruptly cut out, trembling at the sheer brilliance of the roar.

The Tuskens froze almost comically and then scattered with fearful yelps and shouts as they rushed in painful circles and random paths trying to find safety, escape danger. They disappeared back into the holes they came from until the Jedi Master was left alone.

Qui-Gon’s heart pounded. The roar belonged to something immense and dangerous. The people of Mos Espa feared the Tusken Raiders, but the sand people feared something greater. And with good reason, Qui Gon thought as his memory replayed the splintering scream.

The Jedi Master waited for the ground to rumble with the thundering steps of some large beast. But there was no sound in the sweltering desert. The warm Tatooine breezes continued to whirl about as if the balance of life hadn’t been disrupted by that great cry. Qui-Gon peered into the bright desert landscape as a small figure ambled slowly down the rocks and sand ahead.

The Jedi Master took a step forward, wondering if he should warn the figure of the great beast, but the Force hushed him softly.

The figure moved steadily on until Qui-Gon could make out the shape of a thick-cloaked person.

The individual halted a good seven feet away and stood still, watching the Jedi Master for a few quiet moments. Hands lifted from the heavy folds of the cloak and pushed the cowl off a wizened, aged face.

“Hello there,” the figure said with a knowing smile.


	2. You Speak as if You Know Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a much shorter chapter, sorry everybody. But the next one will definitely be longer. This is just filler. It sets up everything that happens in the next chapter...
> 
> Do you guys even read this stuff lol?

Qui-Gon stared aghast at the old man standing before him, wearing the smirk of one who knows something everyone else doesn’t. The elder individual was weathered and wrinkled in the face. Silver-white hair wildly framed the top of his head and an untrimmed beard covered the man’s cheeks. Shocking blue eyes stared amused at the bewildered Jedi. _They are so familiar_ , Qui-Gon thought, frowning… _almost like…._

“Usually one offers a salutation in return of a ‘hello’. It is the customary expectation of any greeting,” the old man murmured casually to Qui-Gon.

The Jedi Master was unsure of what to say next, taken aback by the elder’s nonchalance. It was as if they were old friends finally reunited after a long period of time. Qui-Gon was sure he’d never met the man in his life. The Force had never felt like such a confusing mass of brilliance.

The old man smiled. “Shall I give you time to sort out your proprieties? It _is_ a baffling concept to have to start any conversation with a form of greeting. In my experience, getting to the point excludes any awkward feelings one might have.”

That dry wit. It reminded Qui-Gon of his apprentice. Obi-Wan was always shooting the Jedi Master some knowing look, lips twisted into a smirk as he offered his bit of sarcastic humor. It made missions terribly infuriating and exciting all at once.

“I….hello,” Qui-Gon spoke lowly, wincing at the sound of his own uncertainty. He was a Jedi Master for Force sake. Serenity. Serenity. Serenity.  

The old man grinned. “Wonderful. Now that that’s out of the way, we shall move on. You may call me Ben.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed.  So _this_ was the Crazy Old Ben the locals warned him of. Well, he certainly _was_ an eccentric fellow.

“What was that sound?” He tried instead. If Old Ben desired a conversation that got to the point, Qui-Gon would certainly give it to him. “It was loud, like a beast’s roar. It scared the sand people away. I feel it is unsafe to stand out here in the open talking.”

Old Ben chuckled. “Ah. That was a krayt dragon call, I believe. Those creatures mean nasty business. The Sand People are wise to avoid them. They are the only beasts on this planet that don’t fear the Tuskens.”

Qui-Gon began to move, scanning the desert around him for places to hide and wait out this feared king of the desert. If it came down to a fight, Qui-Gon would not hesitate. But he refused to kill the beast if he had imposed on its territory. It was only defending itself.

 There were only the holes in cave rock the Sand People disappeared into at the sound of the chilling roar. He wondered if Ben would follow him on his own accord into one of the larger cavities.

“Always living in the moment, I see.” The old man called out behind him. Qui-Gon froze and whirled to face the amused figure still standing motionless in the same place as before. The Jedi Master’s eyes thinned.

“What do you mean?” Qui-Gon ventured, wondering if the Force was playing tricks on him. This vision was almost too exasperating to sort out. But, by the Force, it was as if Obi-Wan was talking to him. His Padawan always held a quiet disapproval for Qui-Gon’s focus on the Living Force.

“That dragon call did not come from the massive beast you are imagining in your head,” Ben said slowly, as if Qui-Gon was a particularly dense child.

The Jedi Master stared at him confused. That sound couldn’t have come from….

He reached into the Force instead. This man was a swirling mass of perplexity. He spoke as if he knew Qui-Gon personally, conversing as if he had any right to compliment and criticize the Jedi Master.

The Force surged in his mind, delighted that Qui-Gon was here now, in this moment with Old Ben. It answered his confusion swiftly, with not a little amusement. And Qui-Gon could only stare at the old man.

Ben chuckled. “Yes. I made the krayt’s call. It’s not too hard. Just takes the right attitude, a set of well-used vocal cords, and a little wind. I could teach you, but I don’t think this is the time or place for that. The Force has not exactly brought you here to learn a dragon roar, has it, Master Jinn?”

The world dropped out beneath Qui-Gon’s feet. This was a Force vision. It _had_ to be. How else would this crazy old man know his name and Jedi occupation?

Ben gave him an empathetic smile. “You are wondering if this is a force vision.” It was a statement, not a question, as if the old man knew Qui-Gon’s thinking. “I can assure you, my friend that I stand before you in flesh and blood. Not an extension of the Force. And neither are you apparently.”

The Jedi Master let out a low growl. “You speak as if you know me, Old Ben. If that isn’t proof that this is a vision of the force, I don’t know what is. I don’t have the slightest idea why the Force is testing me in this fashion.”

Ben’s eyebrows pulled together in the first sign of confusion.

“In all the times you visited me in my exile, you were never this uncertain,” He mused absently as if he was speaking to himself and not Qui-Gon. “Then again, the last time you spoke to me, you warned me that I would soon take up the mantle of teaching someone in the art of the force. I thought that meant Luke….I never realized it would be… _you._ ”

Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed. “Again, you speak as if you have met me before…but I have never met… _you_.”

Ben turned a melancholy gaze upon him. “How wrong you are, Master Jinn,” he whispered quietly.

 Qui-Gon flinched at the pain brimming under the surface of those blue eyes. The soft cerulean colors seemed to dim to gray. Again, the Jedi Master was reminded of his Obi-Wan. The way the boy’s eyes seemed to shift in color according to his mood.

Old Ben sighed. “If you do not believe me, Master Jedi, ask the _Force_ if my words are true.”

Qui-Gon glared at the elderly man. “How do you know the ways of the Force? If you are indeed a real person and not an extension of this vision, you should be dead. The Jedi are extinct in this world.”

Ben let out an exasperated groan. Tipping his head to the sky, he glowered at the large expanse of blue above him. “Of course you would have me teach the most stubborn man in the entire galaxy. You have not exactly changed since the last we spoke… _personally._ Inflexible man.”

Qui-Gon watched the old man let loose a string of curses in what seemed to be Huttese.

It seemed the locals were right. Old Ben was certainly an insane hermit. The Jedi Master wondered why the Force was punishing him so.

He had trained a wonderful apprentice almost to knighthood, rescued the _Chosen One_ of the Force’s prophecy from a life of slavery, and promised to train said boy in the ways of the Jedi so he could bring balance to the galaxy.

Why in all the sith hells was he being punished this way?

Ben rolled his eyes as if he could read the direction Qui-Gon’s thoughts. “If you must be so opposed to the truth, so be it. You must do what you think is right, of course. However, the Sand People will soon be back. And in greater numbers. This conversation can be continued within the safe confines of my house. It is not far from here. There, Master Jinn, you can meditate on the Force’s will.”

The old man turned and began hobbling slowly away in the direction he had first come from. Ben picked his way leisurely over the sand and rocks in his path, surprisingly graceful for such an old individual.

The last thing Qui-Gon wanted to do was follow the crazy elder.

And he certainly did not appreciate being spoken to like a child. Ben had scolded him, _punished_ him with meditation on why he was acting like an obnoxious youngling. It stung his pride to realize the old man was right.

The Force had been pushing against his mind throughout their entire conversation, imploring the Jedi Master to live in the moment and accept the vision or test for what it was- a teaching moment. Qui-Gon needed to learn something here on this desert planet from an old man who was certainly wiser in the ways of the Force than Qui-Gon himself.

_Keep your concentration on here and now where it belongs._

The Force reminded him of his own words, council he had given Obi-Wan not long ago.

He needed to focus on the Force’s will. He needed to learn something, and Ben was here and now in this moment offering it to him.

The Force desired to gift him with crucial knowledge. Who was he to deny its will?

Qui-Gon was not a Jedi Master here in the deserts of the Outer Rim. He was a learner, a Padawan.

With that resigned thought, Qui-Gon Jinn, respected Knight of the Force, turned and followed Old Ben out of the Jundland Wastes of Tatooine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This line Old Ben says- "It’s not too hard. Just takes the right attitude, a set of well-used vocal cords, and a little wind."- is taken from the Star wars: A New Hope novel. 
> 
> I'm pretty excited to see where this story is going, guys...I feel like I'm on a roll posting 2 chapters in one day. Heck yeah!


	3. Blindness is Folly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I got too philosophical with this one haha. Is it boring?  
> Actually...it probably makes no sense at all, sorry.  
> But it is 4000 words soooo...BAM

Ben’s hut was a small, domed dwelling settled comfortably on a plateau of sand and rock. It seemed lonely situated in such a remote part of the Tatooine desert. Only a few lonely moisture vaporators were situated haphazardly in the dunes behind the house.

Old Ben moved quickly over the hills of sand and jutting rock, picking his way steadily toward the hut. He didn’t speak and Qui-Gon found himself restlessly waiting for the elder to open his mouth and give another torrent of wise words and phrases. The man seemed comfortable in his silence though.

Ben patiently held the door for the taller figure, smiling in a conciliatory fashion as the Jedi stepped inside. Qui-Gon could only imagine what awaited him in the hut. Judging from the elder’s serene expression, the Jedi Master figured he should be wary.

The interior was compact and almost cramped. From the doorway Qui-Gon could see a small living area complete with two cushion chairs and a table. A large rug was laid out in the space, belonging at one point, to some soft-looking animal. Ahead, the floor was raised and connected with a brief staircase. It was too dark for Qui-Gon to make out anything other than a small stovetop.

So this was the life of a hermit. Qui Gon was surprised at how pleasant the sparsely-furnished home seemed.

“There is a cot downstairs for you to sleep in, Master Jinn. I’ll show you the way.”

Qui-Gon awkwardly stepped aside as the old man moved past him and up the steps. The Jedi Master ducked beneath the doorway and followed Ben as they moved into what seemed a kitchen area. A space heater sat in the corner of the small room, covered in dust. To Qui-Gon, it seemed almost useless inside a desert-house.

The old man followed the direction of the Jedi’s gaze and chuckled. “The desert cools abnormally in the night, master Jedi. It _is_ a strange concept to consider. But when you have lived so long on such an arid landscape, you come to realize that the desert is full of peculiar contradictions and hypocrisies. Makes for an amusing life.”

Ben walked to the center of the room and nudged the ground with a booted foot. “There is a trapdoor here that leads downstairs. There you will find your cot, of course, as well as a meditation mat. You may leave your things down there as well. I believe there are still empty spaces in the shelves against the wall.”

Qui-Gon nodded.  “I thank you for your hospitality,” he murmured and bowed respectfully to the older man.

Ben smiled knowingly, almost amused, in a way that irked Qui-Gon beyond measure. “It is my pleasure, Master Jinn.” The smile twisted into a smirk and those crystal-blue eyes alighted with glee. “I will leave you to your… _meditations_.”  The elder man turned with a soft laugh and proceeded leisurely out of the room. Qui-Gon glared after him the entire way.

_By the force_ did he need a meditation exercise to calm his frazzled nerves. That old man had an unusually powerful gift in being able to vex the Jedi Master beyond reason. He was almost like Obi-Wan in an infuriating way.

_Perhaps this is the great test of the force- a trial of patience._ Qui-Gon thought with a frown.

***

The Jedi Master immersed himself immediately in the Force, sinking deeply into meditation. Questions needed to be answered; else Qui-Gon knew he would go insane.

Only hours ago he had been on a ship with his Padawan and Anakin Skywalker, heading to a blockaded Naboo. Now he was stuck on Tatooine, meditating in the underbelly of a hut belonging to a slightly-crazed hermit. The Force definitely had a lot to answer for.

The soothing tones of said power instantly calmed the Jedi’s tension. Tendrils of the Force seemed to wrap his soul in a bundle of warmth, safety, reassurance. The Jedi Master was where he should be. This was right.

Absently, Qui-Gon could feel his physical body relax as the stress of the day was released into the Force. His mind cleared the clutter of worried thoughts. The resulting clarity allowed for deeper introspection.

Qui-Gon was certainly here to be tested by the Force, but Old Ben was right to say he was also on Tatooine to learn. If this was indeed a Force vision, he needed to show the patience of a Jedi Master.

_Live in the moment_ , the Force reminded him.

The Jedi Master smiled serenely and allowed himself to slip into a light trance, gradually awakening to the physical plane. The last vestiges of the deeper Unifying Force began to wear away, and Qui-Gon was once again in tune with the Living Force.

He could feel the gentle thrumming of the hut around him- the slow droll of the ventilation unit above, the quiet hum of the stove, the minor creaks and groans of the aging house. He could even feel the slight caresses of the wind outside as it tapped against the stone walls.

There was peace here.

***

Qui-Gon padded up the steps of the cellar and pushed firmly against the trapdoor above him. It swung aside with a soft creak. A warm, earthy scent permeated the air in the hut and Qui-Gon glanced at the cooling stove in the kitchen. Had the old man cooked something?

A sharp clinking sound pulled the Jedi Master out of his thoughts.

Qui-Gon walked warily into the main room and caught sight of Ben setting two bowls and utensils around what seemed to be the dining table. The elder man looked up and smiled. “Ah. You’re just in time for evening meal.”

The Jedi Master took his seat with a soft _thank you_ and peered into his bowl. The enticing aroma yielded to a tempting sight. It was a stew of some kind, filled with chunks of meat, mushrooms, and some vegetables Qui-Gon couldn’t place.

The taste was even more exquisite. Qui-Gon barely stopped a satisfied groan from escaping his lips as the stew settled warmly in his gut. He had been wandering the desert for hours, and the meal reminded him of his hunger. The Jedi felt like a teenage boy again, shoveling food into his mouth, scarcely chewing or taking a breath.

Ben chuckled, entertained by the sight of the Jedi Master eating with great urgency. “I am glad my cooking is satisfactory, Master Jinn. I do not receive guests often. Especially those with an appetite. That is, unfortunately, the life of a hermit. Eat well, master Jedi. The desert is a master of stealthy ruination. If you forget yourself in its sands, you could lose yourself forever in the destruction. We have much to accomplish in the morning.”

Silence followed the remark and Qui-Gon found himself enjoying the quiet atmosphere. Neither of the two spoke anymore words, but a comfortable stillness fell over the table. The Jedi Master could feel the peaceful signature of the old man sitting across from him. It was barely noticeable unless Qui-Gon concentrated hard enough. But it was enough to relax the Jedi.

Qui-Gon found he had never enjoyed a meal more.

 

They finished at the same time and, still quiet, filtered to the kitchen to wash the bowls and utensils. Old Ben gave him a bow of thanks and retired for the night with a “goodnight, Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon wandered back into the cellar, stripped off his robes and belt, and slipped into his cot marveling at his emotions of content.

***

Qui-Gon awoke from his dreamless sleep with a sluggish start. The internal clock in his body roused him at dawn every morning. The Jedi Master valued an early start to the day. The most energetic hours were contained when the sun was just beginning to rise. The Force stirred with light and anticipation.

Qui-Gon eagerly sank into a light meditative trance. He was ready for whatever the day would bring. The Force had chosen to gift _him_ with knowledge. He would honor its will, accept being its student. And after, he could return to his Padawans and continue a legacy of powerful Jedi Knights.

The thought of Anakin and Obi-Wan as successful Knights filled his heart with warmth. After Xanatos, the Jedi Master’s heart had become cold, his relationship with the force wavered. That boy had long ago burned his heart to ash.

Obi-Wan, his pure light, had patched him together and taught him to move on from the agony of betrayal. It had taken time and hard work, but eventually he grew to love his Padawan like a son. The dust of Xanatos’s memory had been swept away and replaced with the loyalty of a thirteen year old boy as pure as the Force itself and selfless enough to sacrifice his life for others.

Now Qui-Gon could watch him become a Knight and make room in his life for another a child. A child of great talents and force capability. Anakin Skywalker, a boy weighed down by the chains of slavery, friendly and compassionate, willing to offer the Jedi his home in a desert storm. He was an important child, destined to save the lives of the entire galaxy and bring peace to counter the darkness.

Qui-Gon had never felt prouder of his sons.

The Jedi Master walked purposefully out of the cellar and into the main room of Ben’s hut. The old man was sitting in the living area, sipping amiably from a mug cupped in his hands. He turned with a smile. “Ah, finally awake, Master Jinn.” Qui-Gon only stared.

_Finally?_ He had been awake since dawn, earlier than most Jedi roused in the Temple.

“There is a cup of tea for you on the dining table, still warm. It is Tander Tea, I believe. The leaves are grown only on Lothal. An old friend of mine secured me with a shipment long ago. I have enough to last a lifetime. I believe you will enjoy the taste, Master Jedi.” Ben murmured.

Qui-Gon cocked his head. “How did you know I have a preference for tea?”

Ben smiled in that knowing way of his. “Lucky guess.”

And he was right. The tea was damn good.

***

The old man beckoned for Qui-Gon to follow him outside. A child-like sense of excitement flooded the Jedi Master.

It was strange and glorious all at once to be the one _taught_ rather than the one to _teach_. His old master, Dooku, had an unconventional way of instructing. He had been a stern, hard individual, difficult to get along with. Qui-Gon had been almost happy when he was knighted, early of course, because of Dooku’s upfront nature.

He wondered what secrets the Force would offer, what wise council he would need to instruct his legacy. Anakin Skywalker must need such special knowledge. He was the Chosen One, child of the Force. Of course it would smile upon the boy, gift him with only the highest degree. Qui-Gon felt honored to be his master and train the boy toward an astounding destiny.

Old Ben started out away from the house, climbing over the jutting rocks in the sand, trudging up the peak of one high dune of sand. He stopped at the very top and froze. Qui-Gon did as well, watching the old man lift his chin and close his eyes.

A cool desert breeze washed over them, stirring white and graying hair against cheeks and foreheads. Cloth shifted, rippling gently in the wind. Sand rose and hovered over the ground, stinging against exposed skin and settling far in the distance. The heat of the sun was forgotten in the current of air. Refreshing. Gratifying.

“Do you know why the wind is so special, Master Jinn?” Murmured Ben as he opened his eyes and turned toward the Jedi. Qui-Gon hesitated, wondering if this was some test he needed to pass. He didn’t know quite how to answer.

The wind was an appreciative gift of the Force, sure. Often the Force’s currents could be felt in the wind. It forced a person to stop whatever they are doing in a single moment and just _listen_ and _feel._ _The winds speaks to those who are quiet_ , Qui-Gon thought. He didn’t dare say the words aloud, and he didn’t know why that was.

Ben was only a small man, barely tall enough to reach Qui-Gon’s shoulders.

But he was wise beyond the Jedi Master’s years, and that made him an imposing figure.

The old man smiled as if he expected Qui-Gon to stumble. “The wind _is_ a gift of the Force, Master Jinn, but that is not what makes it special. You think you do, but you do not _feel_ the wind, Qui-Gon Jinn. If you did, you would know that it is an expression of the Force itself. It howls and sighs over these great desert plains, stirring up the dust from the ground in boundless gusts and gentle pushes. The wind _is_ the Force, because it breaks and builds all at once. It is enough to make a man fall to his knees or sigh in relief, in respite. The Force surrounds us, Master Jedi, but many do not know the meaning of that phrase.”

Qui-Gon considered the words and turned his face to the gentle breeze still sweeping across the sand dune. He had never thought of the wind in such a way as being a physical representation of the Force itself rather than a creation the force used to _speak_ to the Jedi.

“You are very wise, Master Ben,” Qui-Gon smiled and bowed. The elder turned to him with a frown of surprise, cocking his head unsurely. A wide smile crossed his face and he dipped his head.

“Now then,” the old man mused, “it is time to get to work. Follow me, master Jedi.” Ben hobbled down the slope of the dune and headed farther out into the desert toward…a _moisture vaporator?_ Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes in confusion but followed the elder man, albeit, a little more cautiously.

“I must warn you,” the Jedi intoned, “I am no good with maintenance and repairs.”

Old Ben smirked. “Of that I have no doubt. However, by the end of this day, you will be able to fix most of the problems on my vaporators.”

Why was the Force so bent on teaching him about moisture vaporators?

The old man scowled, “You forget, Master Jinn. This is _not_ a Force vision.”

Qui-Gon didn’t believe him. Not for a second.

And Ben was strangely thorough in reading his mind. That was evidence enough.

The elder man huffed and rolled his eyes. “Stubborn man,” he muttered under his breath. “Whether you believe this is a reality or not Qui-Gon Jinn, you are very capable of fixing a moisture vaporator if I teach you. And you _will_ fix them.”

Qui-Gon glared at the infuriating man, “I don’t see how this has anything to do with the situation at hand- learning about the _Force_!”

Ben smiled sweetly, “Think of this as a test of patience. You Jedi are selfless creatures. I am too old to work on these vaporators. You, however, are still in your prime.”

So Qui-Gon found himself deep in vaporator repairs. He was instructed to scrub the dust-ridden pieces of metal and taught the various parts of the great machine. Ben quizzed him every now and then to keep him on his toes. Qui-Gon learned how to spot seemingly invisible mistakes- a missing screw or bolt, a loose sheet of metal, even blocked valves and sensors.

By mid-afternoon, Qui-Gon was well-versed in the water pump unit, condenser systems, and pressure valves. He would never admit to the old man how gratifying it was to understand most of the workings in the machine. It was almost useless knowledge to the Jedi. However, he might be able to hold at least part of a conversation with his Padawan who studied machinations and did the repair work on missions when needed.

He never understood why machines were so valued in society. They were nothing when compared to the value of the Force. Technology failed at the most inopportune moments, letting people down when they needed it most. If one gear failed or one screw was loose, the entire machine would not work. It seemed risky business to rely on machines so much.

But Ben had a gentle way of teaching. He explained the use of each part in the whole, assigning the part with a specific purpose no matter how great or small. The old man was also infinitely patient, explaining to Qui-Gon how things worked in multiple ways. He answered questions with utmost wisdom and knowledge. The Jedi Master was convinced that there was nothing Ben didn’t know…or at least had an opinion of. It was extremely humbling.

But as the hours droned on and Qui-Gon worked on one vaporator after the other, he began to question why there was need to waste precious time on something so… _useless._ He wanted to learn the secrets of the Force, and especially teach _Anakin_ what he had learned. The Chosen One did not need to know about air density sensors and telemetry cones.

Frustration drove through Qui-Gon’s veins. His patience wore thin.

Angrily, the Jedi Master slammed a fist against the side of the fifth vaporator’s body and turned a furious gaze on Ben. The old man had cupped his chin and was stroking his beard, staring at Qui-Gon with those _sith-forsaken_ amused eyes. “That vaporator is not yet finished. Why have you stopped?” Old Ben asked him.

It took all of Qui-Gon’s remaining restraint to stay crouched in the sand. His fingers tightened on the wrench in his hands and he entertained a brief image of throwing it across the sand.

Ben’s lips thinned. “Throwing a tantrum is the behavior of a child. I expected more from a seasoned master with your wisdom.”

Qui-Gon scoffed. “I am wise in the _Force_. This is _droid_ work! Why must I focus on things that do not help me grow stronger in the Force? One must not focus on meaningless things. That takes attention away from things that matter, skills that can be honed and strengthened. To know the world, I don’t need every bit of knowledge it contains. That is a fool’s wish. Impossible.”

Ben’s eyes dimmed considerably. Qui-Gon was horrified to see _disappointment_ in those grey orbs. He was not angry, not at all. He was _crestfallen._ So the Jedi Master had indeed failed. He just didn’t know in what way.

The old man turned his gaze to the sky with a sigh. “I cannot teach him. The man has no patience.”

Qui-Gon winced. He was used to being the master, used to being demanding of his padawans, used to setting the rules and limits of others. It was strange to give up that authority to one who seemed greater and wiser. The Jedi Master waited anxiously as he watched the old man.

Ben paused and cocked his head as if listening to someone speak. His shoulders hunched inward as if fighting against something. A sigh of defeat. Then, “Come. Follow me, Master Jedi. If you so desire a lesson in the force, then I shall give it to you.”

Qui-Gon let the wrench slip from his fingers. He watched the elder man trudge slowly over the sand dunes toward the hut, hesitant, almost… _defeated_ and followed behind. They did not walk for long before he realized that he was walking one step behind and to the left of the older man.

***

Old Ben settled himself in the sand with a groan, knees crossed, and palms resting on the top of his thighs. The Jedi Master sat down in front of the old man in an imitation of the posture only a couple feet away. The elder man smiled, pleased, though his eyes were still pained with disappointment. It made Qui-Gon’s heart ache.

Ben stretched out his hand, palm facing the floor. Summoning the force, his fingers twitched and a ball of sand lifted from the ground and hovered in the air between them.

Strangely, it never occurred to Qui-Gon that this man possessed the Force. The Jedi Master put away that knowledge in the back of his mind, mentally reminding himself to analyze the information later. Now, he was completely focused on the white-haired individual.

Ben swirled his fingers and the ball of sand gradually began to disintegrate as the particles slipped through his fingers and back to the ground below. Qui-Gon squinted as more granules disappeared until it seemed there was nothing being levitated with the Force.

“There is one grain of sand hovering in the air between us,” Ben murmured.  “Small, barely visible to your eyes. Tell me, Master Jinn. Does it possess the Force? Does it live?”

Qui-Gon paused, wondering for a moment if he should speak. He settled with, “The grain is part of the Force but it does not live. It is an instrument, a tool to be used by the power of the Force.”

Ben smiled, “That is where you are wrong in your knowledge of the Force, my friend. While a grain of sand is not a breathing organism made of blood and flesh, it has a heart that beats in tune with the Force.” Gently, he passed the grain to Qui-Gon’s hand. The Jedi Master stared at the miniscule particle of dirt. A speck of white in his palm.

The old man continued with a chuckle. “Barely visible, isn’t it, Master Jedi? But it has a mighty heart, for the Force _lives_ in it. It _is_ the Force. Feel its signature, Qui-Gon. This grain is the product of the Great Force. It has purpose, believe it or not, and desires of its own. It craves contact with the rest of the sand; it yearns to be with its brothers and sisters.

You do not understand the workings of this great organism because to you it is deemed _meaningless._ This one grain is a mechanism of its own, but it is also part of something greater- the entirety of this desert. Lose the pieces, and you don’t receive this great and marvelous landscape. Disregard the ‘meaningless’ and you have nothing, no knowledge of the greater picture.

The living Force is but one gear in the great scheme of the Force itself. Do not concentrate on the future at the expense of the moment. But don’t also shun the side of the force that desires to give you _guidance-_ the Unifying Force. Sure the future is always changing. Machines are always evolving. The desert is endlessly changing. That does not change the simple truth that all cannot exist without the small, the insignificant, the _meaningless._

You fail, Master Jedi, because you do not perceive the cliff around the corner. You do not _think_ beyond the moment. You do not _see_ what is in front of you. That…that is how you _lose_ someone, someone you care about and… _love._ Blindness is the ultimate folly, Master Jinn. Do not _ever_ make that mistake again.”

There was grief in those blue-gray eyes, such grief that Qui-Gon shrank away from Ben. The man’s Force signature was flooded with agony and self-loathing. The Jedi Master knew that the old man had been through something anguishing, something beyond just “suffering”. It was almost as if the words weren’t for the Jedi Master at all, but Ben himself.

However, the undertone of the words gave Qui-Gon pause. The Force surged in his heart. It felt almost anxious and desperate.

_Remember these words_ , the Force seemed to command. _Remember. Do not forget._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think one of those quotes is from Yoda in Empire Strikes Back. The "I cannot teach him. The boy has no patience."  
> Also, points for the ones who spot the Rebels reference (maybe a certain planet, and maaaaybe a certain character that Obi-Wan knew during the Clone Wars *hint hint*)
> 
> Also this thing isn't edited. I'm too tired to do that. Sorry if there are typos and weird grammar stuff
> 
> Thanks for still reading!!!


	4. The Sun and the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I don't like this chapter at all!  
> Sorry it sucks guys. The next one will be better, I promise!!
> 
> Also there is a really amazing song that fits this chapter. It's called Brothers Under the Sun by Bryan Adams

The return to Ben’s hut was quiet. Qui-Gon trailed the old man back to the squat, Synth house thinking over the words exchanged only a short while ago. _You fail, Master Jedi, because you do not perceive the cliff around the corner. You do not_ _think_ _beyond the moment._

Qui-Gon sighed.

Old Ben had a peculiar way of seeing past his defenses, reading his mind, saying the things the Jedi Master did not want to hear. Qui-Gon knew that the Force sent him here to learn. He just didn’t expect to be torn down in the process. It was humbling to be told that he was wrong. It was humbling to recognize that here he was not a Master of the Jedi Order. It was severely humbling to be told that he didn’t rely on the Force, but his own will.

And it was degrading to recognize his mistakes.

Namely his treatment of a little boy from Tatooine and his own apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 _That is something that will be fixed upon my return to reality_ , he vowed, remembering the agonizing flinch of his Padawan as the Jedi Master declared to the council that Anakin would be his learner. Obi-Wan had closed off after that, become a silent shell, eyes cold and hard and…and _pained_. Qui-Gon had failed his Padawan greatly, hurt him immeasurably.

But there was hope. Ben was willing to help him.

An unexpected wave of gratitude washed through Qui-Gon. He turned his head and looked fondly down at the small man walking beside him.

The pair exuded a sort peace and harmony. They were like they were old friends enjoying the company of each other without the necessity of speaking.

As if he knew he was being watched, the elder met Qui-Gon’s eyes and smiled warmly. It was the kind of smile a father gives his son- warm and proud.

The force swirled around the pair with a kind of light comfort. It eased the Jedi Master’s troubled heart and spoke of great comforting things. The tendrils of that power rippled with reassurance, whispered of safety. It promised a pleasant future and commanded patience.

Qui-Gon had never felt so serene in the depths of the Force.

The Jedi Master slipped into his cot that night smiling, reassured of his place in this Force vision. He would learn what was offered liberally to him, accept criticism, and grow stronger for both his Padawans. Never had the future looked brighter. With that thought, his eyes slipped shut and he gave himself to sleep.

***

Old Ben was already awake when Qui-Gon ambled into the main area. He was sitting in the same chair as yesterday, sipping Tander tea out of a chipped mug, eyes alight with tranquility. Qui-Gon joined him with his own steaming mug. The two sat peaceably, without the strain of yesterday.

The Jedi Master winced as he thought about the harsh words he had spoken to the old man sitting across from him. _Force help me be patient today._

Ben turned to him, “Excited today, are we?”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. Of course the old man read his thoughts and feelings perfectly. He must be broadcasting loudly into the Force. How else could the old man guess so flawlessly?

Old Ben chuckled. “You cannot hide from the Force, Master Jinn. I have spent so long studying its voluminous depths, its secrets. Mind-reading is only a small matter.” The elder’s eyes grew far away as if remembering some distant memory. “It makes teaching easier to know when my students are mentally cursing me with _appalling_ Huttese phrases behind my back.” Those blue eyes dimmed with barely concealed sadness. Qui-Gon’s heart clenched. Ben must have been through something dreadful. It was the only explanation for those despondent eyes.

The Force surged with a gentle warning. _Do not pry._

Ben turned to Qui-Gon, eyes light again, face composed. “There is much work to be done today, Master Jedi. Are you up for the challenge?”

***

The old man left Qui-Gon alone out in the field of moisture vaporators to watch from a distance. It was a test to see if the Jedi Master had learned anything from yesterday, if he was able to fix the great machines without an overseer.

Qui-Gon felt more tolerant of his lessons today. He remembered with chagrin his mistake from yesterday- criticizing a man who was a great deal wiser and more experienced than he. The Jedi Master had acted childish, in fact, like a youngling who couldn’t have a toy.

Qui-Gon tightened the last screw on the condenser system of the last vaporator and wiped his forehead. He had forgotten how _sithly hot_ it was in the Tatooine deserts. Raised in the temple on Coruscant, his body had gotten used to the artificial weather regulators on the city-planet. Here, it was evening and the twin suns were just beginning to set. That didn’t make it any less hot.

Old Ben picked his way across the sand dunes with his signature amused smirk. “A job well done, Master Jedi. It eases my heart to see these great desert machines fixed. I am too old for this sort of heavy duty.”

Qui-Gon bowed tiredly, “My pleasure.”

Ben nodded. “Work reaps rewards, Qui-Gon Jinn. I believe it is time for our Force studies.”

Qui-Gon smiled thinly. “You have an interesting gift for making me feel like an inexperienced youngling, _Master_ Ben.”

The old man shrugged. “The Force knows only truth, _Master_ Jinn. I am only its medium, its speaker. There are no lies here on the desert plains. In the Force’s eyes, _you_ have _much_ to learn.”

Qui-Gon huffed good-naturedly and followed the elder man as they strode leisurely off to their meditation spot. It seemed the tensions of the past few days had worn away into something softer and more accepting. The Jedi Master recognized now that he was not all-powerful. He could not speak for the Force. If he had to learn, he would do so, and humbly.

***

Ben settled in the sand with a soft groan. “These old bones have been weathered away in the force of great and mighty strife, Master Jinn. Pray you do not befall the same fate.”

Qui-Gon snorted. “We are _both_ old men, my friend. I have had my fair share of aches and pains. Comes with the teaching of youth, unfortunately.”

Ben stroked the beard gracing his chin and turned, amused, “I feel that your experience of teaching the youth and mine are completely different.”

Qui-Gon laughed and settled in sand as well. It was warm from the twin suns in the Tatooine sky bearing their rays upon the desert surface. Stretching out his mind to the Force, he searched its deep gravities and pockets, connecting to the living things around him.

One might say that the desert held no life, but Qui-Gon had learned the falseness of that statement. The desert beat with one mighty drum. It was an orchestra of life, but a single instrument in the Force, strumming to the rhythm of life. He recognized that song now.

There was a gentle pulse deep in the earth of sand, miniscule, barely noticeable. But as Qui-Gon tuned out the physical senses threatening his connection to the deep Force, he perceived a hushed thrumming blending perfectly into the layers of the mighty Force.

The sound of a beating heart.

The sands were alive as Ben had said. Qui-Gon could feel each grain. Every particle had its own pulse, its own beat, and its own desires. But the particles were synchronized one with another. There was a symphony of breathing…of _life_. The sounds were so in tune like the harmony of one massive spirit.

The spirit of the desert.  

Qui-Gon was brought out of his meditations with an affectionate nudge of the Force.

His cheeks were wet with tears.

Ben was watching him, a pleased smile gracing his face. “You learn quickly, dear Master Jinn. The Force sings in you,” he murmured quietly. “You have learned the desert’s spirit, gathered its children in the Force, and revered its desires. One lesson succeeded only for a new one to begin. One not quite as difficult this time, for you have practiced the art of _listening_.”

Ben scooted slightly closer and sank his hands deeply into the desert sands. He pulled each arm out, a handful of the white sands in each fist. The old man held his arms straight out and opened his palms. “The desert is a peculiar environment. It is so rich in the Force, yet people disregard its plainness in favor of more… _visible_ things. It is easy to sense the Force in a forest or jungle or planet rich with people. But trees and people alike are too _loud_. The desert is a quiet being, content to welcome those few worthy enough into its depths.” His voice dropped low, the soft accent becoming more pronounced. It was mesmerizing to hear. “The song of the desert is one of bliss and loss. It is here that the jubilant are stripped down until they are only cold, empty shells. It is also here that the lost find exaltation among the welcoming sands. The desert is a harsh judgment of character. Only few may survive its depths- those that have known love and _loss_.”

The sands in his palms begin to lift off of Ben’s palms, swirling gently in slow circles. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes as the particles seemed to dance in the air. A soft gasp escaped his lips and his eyes widened in surprise.

The sands had coalesced into one moving mass, shifting like a school of fish in the deep oceans of some aquatic planets. They had formed a shape recognizable to any force-sensitive.

The symbol of the Jedi Order.

Ben smiled sadly as he gazed at the shape of the sands in his palms. “When one hears the mourning song of the desert as well as its contented chorus, the sands are easy to manipulate, eager to please. In time, _you_ will learn how to direct the dust of the desert ground. For now though, I shall tell its story.”

Ben twirled his fingers gently and the sands seemed to collapse, still hovering a few inches above the skin of the old man’s hands. They shifted again, forming two circles, one brighter and one darker.

The twin suns of Tatooine.

_“The desert’s history spans before time was recorded. In those periods, there was no darkness in the galaxy or evil beings ruling with bloody fists or empires razing freedom into the dust of dreams. There was only light and a united people on a white-sand planet._

_Two rulers presided over the people, two rulers that the desert accepted to command and reign. For they were the children of those white sands, born out of the grains of light and life spilling together from desert depths to create one perfect form split in two._

_Twins. Two halves of a whole. Two soulmates tied together, intertwined, bonded forever.”_

The sands in Ben’s palms converged, both suns joining together to create a whole circle interlaced with both light and dark grains.

 

_“One was pronounced ruler of the sun, for he blazed with fiery passion and determination. His anger ran hot against his enemies, yet his friends were warmed by the rays of his loyalty and compassion.”_

 

The sand sun flared violently above the old man’s palms, coronas weaving in a brilliant aura around the bright circle.

 

Passion and control.

 

_“His brother was the ruler of the sky, temperate and considerate, calm and eased. He could extinguish the flames of his brother’s fury with a simple word or look. He was a protector, a teacher, a brother, and friend.”_

 

A shape seemed to fly out of the brilliant sun still hovering brightly in the air. It was a Sebhac, a Tatooinian hawk, angling its wings and diving through the surface of the sand sun. Its wingtips brushed the heated flares of the brilliant sun and the circle of light dimmed steadily until it glowed with tranquil energy.

_“The sun ruler loved attention, coveted the worship of the desert people. He often walked among them, parading through their streets with an entourage of admirers following closely behind. He met a woman on the planet surface, one with a fire in her brown eyes that matched his own.”_

 

The sands dissolved again and then converged, twisting together, forming the curved shapes of two human figures, one male and female embracing.

_“The sun ruler feared his brother would condone him for falling in love with a desert woman, but he could not let her leave his side. So they met in secret on the desert planet, sneaking and hiding away from the watchful eyes of the sky. But the woman was only mortal and she aged swiftly as the time passed. Stricken with pain, the sun ruler searched the desert for a way to save the woman he loved. Little did her realize a necromancer had been watching his every move since the sun ruler’s feet first touched mortal ground. His gaze was hungry for power and exploitation.”_

The sands froze and darkened considerably above Ben’s hands.

_“So he drew the sun ruler into his home with gentle words and promises. He spoke of a way to achieve immortality.”_

 

The circle of light which had glowed so brightly was suddenly immersed in the darkened sands which crashed repeatedly into the suffering circle.

_“The sun ruler agreed to join him in return for saving the woman. Little did he know that his lover had followed him into the necromancer’s cave and heard the horrific vows of allegiance. Distressed, she turned to the sky god and confided every secret the two lovers had kept from him, begging the brother to help her recover her lost love. The brother agreed.”_

 

The sands diverged and revealed the Sebhac flying distressed around the darkened sun, darting in and out of the tightening tendrils of evil that coiled around the sphere. The brilliant rays of light were caged in the thick sands, pulsing weakly.

_“When the sun ruler saw the two together, his heart froze with fury and betrayal. He lashed out against his brother, accusing him of stealing the woman he loved. The sky ruler protested, begging for his twin to return to the sun, to the light. With contempt, the sun god refused. The brothers met in a clash of pain and fury.”_

 

The sands uncoiled and formed the Sebhac and a newly darkened sun. The bird moved desperately over the sphere’s surface, dodging lashes of darkness and anger as it navigated over the dimmed fires.

_“In agony, the sky ruler fought against his twin brother, eventually incapacitating him. Yet, the brother could not deliver the final blow that would end his misguided sibling. Turning, he fled the desert planet and its skies with a fierce cry of anguish._

_The sun ruler hunted mindlessly for his brother, fueled by hate and betrayal and the words of a cunning necromancer. The sky ruler evaded his malevolent brother, pained that he could not save the other half of his soul._

_Both brothers still pursue and escape each other across the skies of the Tatooine desert.  The suns that hang low in the sky are twins, born of the same sands of light and life, split from one whole into complimentary halves of light. Once, they were soulmates, brothers, and friends. But they will never conjoin. The suns are sentenced forever to a life just beyond each others’ reach, always pursuing and evading across the desert skies of a barren world.”_

 

Two suns now danced above the palms of Ben’s hands. One was pure and white. The other dark and shadowed. They floated together in the air above the old man’s skin, yet Qui-Gon could feel the painful chasm that divided both circles.

 

 _The suns are sentenced forever to a life just beyond each others’ reach, always pursuing and evading across the desert skies of a barren world._ Ben’s words sent shivers down the Jedi Master’s spine. They were not remarks spun from the parables and lessons of stories and tales. They were accounts spoken with barely concealed pain and regret.

The old man’s words were horrifying, agonizing, and especially personal.

Qui-Gon searched the blue orbs of the old man curled sorrowfully in front of him, shoulders hunched and shaking, fists clenched, mouth trembling.

 

Something had torn Ben’s soul apart. The man in front of him was only a heartbreaking shell of agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story with the sun and sky rulers was influenced by the novel Kenobi by John Jackson Miller. There's a part in it where the Tusken people describe the tale of suns of Tatooine. I thought it was pretty cool.  
> But this chapter turned out to be sooo bad.  
> I don't know if I should take it down and re-write it or not...


	5. But I Could Not Save You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in so long! School just started and I'm too lazy to do anything these days lol. In compensation for my sluggish ways I present you with a very very long and somewhat edited chapter.
> 
> I actually don't edit at all so sorry if things don't make sense! Just point it out to me in the comments:)

“ _Again_ , Qui-Gon. You must concentrate. Stretch out with your feelings and focus on the Force flowing through them.”

The ‘them’ was a pile of sand still currently sitting immobile in the Jedi Master’s palms. He had been sitting cross-legged for hours, staring at the tiny specks in his hands as he willed them to move and shape in the air. So far he had only managed to lift the pile of sand and move it in different directions. A Padawan could do the same. _Force_. Even an initiate could accomplish such a task. Qui-Gon was getting nowhere.

He couldn’t figure out how to shape the particles into actual figures. The grains had minds of their own and were particularly stubborn. It was quite difficult to connect to billions of Force presences at once. Especially if every presence fought you every step of the way.

But he hadn’t lost his temper yet. That was certainly an achievement.

By the Force was it hot in the desert. Sitting in the warmed sand, Qui-Gon could feel sweat rolling down his back through his Jedi tunics. His face was no doubt red from the blasted rays of two Tatooine suns beating heavily upon the two kneeling figures. For the first time in his life, the Jedi Master wished he didn’t have such long hair.

Qui-Gon sighed and shook his head. _Focus._

The Jedi Master summoned the Force once again, breathing deeply as he delved into the great energy. Its power swelled and enveloped him, crashing furiously into his entire soul, caressing his mind with the softest of touches. He caught his breath at the sheer amazement of the Force’s warm embrace. It was life and vigor bundled and spilling over with power. Light surged into his consciousness, sweeping away the heat of the desert on his face and the ache in his crossed legs and back. It sharpened his conscious, urged him to find his center.

Qui-Gon breathed deeply.

The Jedi master could envision his goal. He could feel the warm, roiling sensation of the sands above his palms as they entwined and moved as one. He knew each and every particle and connected each individual to the whole of his mind as he saw fit, piecing their essences into one mass.

 Qui-Gon queried the Force to aid him in forming the sands in his palms. He could _feel_ the tender Force signatures of each grain now through the Force.

The Force was answering his plea.

The grains surged forward, eager to fulfill his desires. Qui-Gon, through the Force, sifted through each particle, piecing together a recognizable formation.

The grains patiently melded one against another, grouping in larger and larger clumps.

The sand lifted off his palms and began to form something of a three dimensional shape in the air, growing and expanding as particles were added and moved around.

Qui-Gon watched through the Force, relieved that the grains were finally willing to follow his commands. Confident now that he could achieve such persuasion, he stretched out further, envisioning a perfect sphere spinning leisurely in the air between him and Ben.

The grains began to match their intended positions quicker, seeking to abide the order Qui-Gon had given. The sand mass swirled and began to smooth out. Raised bumps once forming strange mountains on the surface of the sand shape began to level out.

Excitement flowed unbidden through Qui-Gon as he watched the scene unfold through the Force.

The sand was now approaching the dimensions of a sphere. Each grain was locked into the Jedi Master’s head. They were part of his conscious, like a Queen bee and her hive soldiers, focused on the goal ahead. An achievement swiftly approaching.

There…the sand was beginning to roll, surface smoothing, particles packing closer and closer together, and….

 

The grains’ attention shifted.

 

The ball of sand hovering triumphantly in the air abruptly disintegrated. It collapsed in on itself, spilling out of Qui-Gon’s palms and to the desert floor below.

An exasperated groan escaped the Jedi Master’s mouth before he could silence it.

Ben chuckled, “It seems we are tired and unfocused today, my friend. Perhaps it is time to retire for the day. We may work on this again tomorrow, Master Jinn, when you can concentrate.”

Qui-Gon huffed. He had been working on sand formations for the past four days and gotten absolutely nowhere. He had lived in Ben’s home for almost a week now and in that span of time, he only learned how to fix moisture vaporators and listen for the Force in a gust of wind. This lesson was taking quite long to master.

“It is a difficult feat to achieve, Qui-Gon. I have told you many, many times that the desert is a force not easily tamed.” The strangely bright, accented voice continued behind him. Qui-Gon didn’t reply. He knew better than to open his mouth and debate the old man. Such battles could not be won.

***

The Jedi Master lifted another spoonful of soup into his mouth, eyes darting around the interior of Ben’s hut. He had slept in this house for a week and already memorized the various trinkets that cluttered the small space. There was a bantha-hide carpet laid out in the sitting room beneath three cushioned chairs. The walls were bare and white, graced only with four hollowed-out alcoves filled with jars and vases and little boxes. Ben’s small cot lay against the wall and a set of furs and thin blankets were folded neatly on top.

The old man was quite precise in the up-keeping of his home. While the hut was situated in a desert environment, Qui-Gon had yet to step in or see any hint of sand on the floors, carpets, or beds. Pots, pans, and cups were lined orderly in a small cupboard in the kitchen, scrubbed spotless every morning and evening after meals. His clothes, various tunics and robes, were clean and fresh, an accomplishment difficult to achieve in the sands of Tatooine. Qui-Gon was impressed.

Yet, every time he glanced at Ben, the old man just didn’t… _fit_ in such a harsh landscape. He didn’t seem to belong alone in the desert wastes of Tatooine.

 The elegant, soft notes of every word he spoke suggested aristocracy, wealth, education. Even when he was nagging Qui-Gon, the Jedi Master couldn’t help but hang onto every immaculate syllable. Ben’s voice was one of old storytellers and teachers, smooth and captivating.

The old man sat straight in his seat, one leg thrown casually over the other as he sipped his tea or read something on his ancient datapad. The easy confidence suggested sophistication and easy authority. Although old, Ben had a certain way of walking, shoulders thrown back confidently, chin raised. It was never haughty, but controlled and certain. He seemed to move across the sands of the desert with a dancer’s grace, poised and assured.

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but study old Ben every time the elder opened his mouth to speak or moved.

There was also an undercurrent of familiarity Qui-Gon still could not get a hold of. It was as if he knew everything about the elder man, but the details remained just out of his reach. It was so infuriating.

As if he knew the direction of Qui-Gon’s thoughts, Ben turned to meet his gaze with an amused smile. The Jedi Master’s mouth seemed to dry.

Those gray-blue pierced his very soul.

The azure depths reflected amusement, but deeper, Qui-Gon could see Ben’s light. The old man was so pure, surrounded so tightly by the Force’s light. He was a gentle, luminous character that reminded Qui-Gon of… _Obi-Wan._

All at once the Jedi Master’s peace seemed to vanish. _By the Force_ did he miss his boy of light, his Padawan. Ben reminded Qui-Gon so much of his apprentice that it practically hurt. Every time he met those wizened blue eyes, he was reminded of a pair of much younger ones alight with a fiery spirit. But observing Ben now, he could practically see the sly, clever amusement that sparked in his Padawan’s gaze…

“I hope I have not gotten something on my face.” The crisp, accented words filtered through Qui-Gon’s occupied mind. The Jedi Master blinked strangely as he slowly managed to focus in on what the old man was saying.

“What,” he questioned, embarrassed suddenly at his lack of focus.

The old man chuckled and his eyes twinkled. “I asked if I had something on my face. You were giving me outlandish stares. If you are brooding over something, then I will kindly leave the room and you to your moping. And if you are thinking hard about something, I suggest that in the future, you direct your gaze on something that is not living. It is quite unnerving to be watched so intently. You haven’t blinked once.”

Qui-Gon smiled, “My apologies, old friend. I was only…observing the charms of your home.” It wasn’t quite a lie, but Qui-Gon couldn’t help but feel the burn of shame in his gut. The old man had caught him. Fortunately his skills in diplomacy prevented his cheeks from flaming like a reprimanded initiate.

Ben’s eyes narrowed good-naturedly. “And are your observations ones of charm or mortification? I must remind you that it _is_ quite difficult to find expensive baubles in the middle of the Tatooinian desert. The Jawas are only particularly fond of old junk and spare parts.”

Qui-Gon laughed. “No, my friend. Yours is one of simple elegance and fine detail. The furred carpet gives a certain… _flair_ to the desert-rustic theme you have here among the beige-washed walls and cracked floors.”

Ben grumbled. “Infuriating Jedi. Your sarcasm knows no bounds. I would like to see _you_ make treasures out of the rusted scraps of moisture vaporators and the junk from the deepest corners of the Jawan sand crawlers.”

Qui-Gon sipped his tea. “A Jedi does not own possessions.”

Ben shot him a withering gaze.

The Jedi Master laughed into his tea. When he felt it was safe, he lifted his gaze and his eyes landed on the small side-table near the front door of the hut.

A large, brown chest sat on top of it.

The chest seemed plain at first glance, but Qui-Gon could perceive the intricate stitching running along the sides of the box. Deep grooves cut rectangles into the lid of the trunk and a heavy, bronze lock adorned the front, locking whatever possessions the box contained with an indomitable will. At first glance, the chest would’ve seemed to have no meaning. Perhaps it only held clothes or shoes or spare parts. But Qui-Gon had never seen another trunk in Ben’s home.

That suggested that this one held importance.

And the Force heartily agreed. 

The Jedi Master turned to Ben and motioned toward the chest. “What is in there, if I may ask?”

 

As soon as the words escaped him, Qui-Gon wished he could retract them.

 

Old Ben had twisted in his seat toward the object in question.

His bright, pure eyes darkened to black.

The Force suddenly shrank away from the table, exuding heavy sorrow so palpable the Jedi Master couldn’t help but shuffle uncomfortably in his seat.

Ben didn’t answer his question. He only gazed at the chest with agonized eyes. Soft lips trembled furiously on that tortured face and heavy but quiet gasps escaped the old man’s mouth.

There were tears in those gentle blue eyes.

Qui-Gon reached desperately for the elder man. His heart was breaking for the Ben that had once seemed so assured, so wise, so _powerful._ One question had broken firm defenses and left the elder a broken mass of unbelievable suffering.

Words of apology formed in the air between them.

Ben stood abruptly, ignoring the Jedi Master’s outstretched palm and crossed the room toward the door of the hut. He stopped before the exit, head downcast, and chin lowered to his chest. The old man clenched his hands into shaking fists. The area around him seemed to darken, as if his exploding grief was somehow leaching the light from the air in the hut. This man was breaking in front of Qui-Gon’s eyes.

Ben took a sudden deep breath and…wilted. The tall, confident set to his shoulders disappeared. He seemed to cave in on himself, draw in as if hiding from the aura of suffering that surrounded him.

The old man’s words came in a broken whisper that Qui-Gon couldn’t recognize. “Don’t…. _please_!” A soft sob tore through that heaving chest.

The anguish caused the Jedi Master to stand. He stepped almost fearfully toward Ben but the elder spun abruptly, eyes blazing with torment. “Do not ask me that again, master Jedi. _Do you understand?”_

Shocked, Qui-Gon could only nod.

Ben shrunk away and the room suddenly lifted from the heavy distress. Now the old man seemed to reflect only a quiet sadness. He turned away from the Jedi Master and spoke so quietly, Qui-Gon had to strain to hear the words. “If you will excuse me, I will…retire….Good night, Master Jinn.”

And then he was gone, leaving the hut with a flutter of robes and a gentle _swoosh_ of the closing front door. Qui-Gon stared after him, heart constricting painfully in his chest.

***

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet, awkward matter. Qui-Gon pushed around the pallies laid out on the plate in front of him. He remembered a time ago that Anakin had offered him the same sweet fruits from on old woman’s stand after escaping Watto’s shop. The memory caused the Jedi Master almost to smile, but then he noticed Old Ben was still and silent, staring down at the plate of fruits. He hadn’t touched a single one. And his cup of tea was still full…and cold.

Qui-Gon had done this. He had reduced this man to silence. The thought made him shudder violently in his seat.

Ben looked up and offered a sad smile. The Jedi Master winced at the elder’s haggard appearance. Old Ben’s face was pale and gaunt; his eyes were shadowed and pained.

Qui-Gon sighed. If only apologies were enough to rectify the pain he had caused this man.

“I…Ben…I’m-” He began and Ben cut him off.

“No, Master Jinn. Don’t finish that sentence. There shall be no talk of grievances here. Not when the suns shine so brightly this morning.” The man’s words were cheerful and the tone sounded just as it always did when Ben was amusingly ready for another bout of Force-teaching torture. But Qui-Gon could still see the hidden pain in those blue eyes.

“Of course,” he murmured quietly and speared a pallie fruit. “And what is on the agenda, oh wise master of the sands.”

The chuckle in response seemed more real this time. “I’m afraid there shall be no Force lessons today, you ungrateful whelp.”

Qui-Gon smiled and pointed at him. “Whelp? I think not. We are practically the same age, Crazy. _Old_. Ben.”

The elder man’s eyes narrowed humorously. “That has yet to be shown, dear _Master_ of the Order.”

Qui-Gon groaned. “I am one of the best diplomats in the Jedi temple and yet a battle of wits with _you_ cannot be _won._ ”

Ben chuckled. “If only you knew, Master Jinn. If only you _knew._ ”

Qui-Gon sipped his tea and grinned. “If it is not making sith-knows-what out of sand, then what is on the agenda today? More vaporator work? That is hardly difficult.”

Ben grumbled. “We shall have to teach you manners, old one. But not today. We are running low on food supplies. You will be taking a trip with me into the unknown interiors of Mos Espa after breakfast. It is dangerous territory, young Master of the Order. We must be cautious. The locals, I have heard, are quite a savage race.”

It took Qui-Gon a moment to realize that the old man was speaking sarcastically. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Theatrics are unbecoming of you, Ben. May I remind you that I survived in that brutal territory…in a _bar_ no doubt?”

Old Ben laughed. “Of course, Master Jinn. Then you will be comfortable to guide us on our adventure?”

Qui-Gon huffed. “The _Force_ will be our guide, Master of the Sands.”

The old man nodded. “Ah, yes. That is the answer a hopeful and _naïve_ youngling would give. We shall see if your actions compliment your pride, dear Jedi.”

***

Ben insisted on walking across the deserts to Mos Espa. Qui-Gon could do nothing but shoot him annoyed glares as they trudged through heavy sands. His back ached, his skin burned hot in the twin suns, and his tunic was pasted to his chest from the sweat rolling off his body. More than anything, he ached for water. Cold water.

Ben laughed beside him. “Peace and serenity are tenets of the Jedi Code, yes, Qui-Gon?”

The Jedi Master sent him another withering glare. The old man did not seem winded at all…or particularly hot for that matter. It irked Qui-Gon. He should know by now, of course, that Ben was a strange and mysterious man. There had to be something he could do to make the old man eat his words and wipe that _sith forsaken_ amused grin off his face.

“A Jedi seeks not revenge,” Ben muttered quietly next to him.

Qui-Gon turned, ready to open his mouth and spill all the curses he knew from all the planets he had visited when there came a humming sound in the distance. The Jedi Master instantly pushed his robe aside, hand hovering over his lightsaber as he scanned the horizon for the sound.

Tusken raiders. He had remembered those fierce natives of the Tatooine deserts and was determined to protect Ben at all costs.

But it wasn’t a Tusken raider. The form in the distance materialized into a moving speeder. Glancing over, Qui-Gon noticed that Ben had taken on a casual stance, arms crossed, fingers stroking at his white beard. The Jedi Master straightened out of his crouch and joined the old man at his side.

As the speeder came closer, Qui-Gon could pick out the features of the driver.

He groaned.

“Qui Jinny? Is tha you?”

_Sith hells._

Qui-Gon winced as he drew over to the halted speeder. B’omar leaned out and offered him a toothy grin. “It _is_ you. Qui Jinny, its ben ages since I las’ saw ye trapisin through these deserts. Drunk again I see. Looks like you don learn nothin’ when I  give ye advice.”

Ben turned toward the Jedi Master with a laugh and mouthed, _Qui Jinny?_

Qui-Gon glared at the old man. B’omar followed his gaze and his eyes narrowed on Ben. “I don know ye.”

Ben walked up to the speeder and bowed low to the suspicious driver. “My apologies. I am Ben.”

B’omar’s eyes narrowed further. “Jus Ben?”

The old man nodded, eyes twinkling politely. B’omar turned to Qui-Gon still suspicious of the white-haired character standing next to his speeder. The Jedi Master nodded at him and immediately B’omar’s eyes brightened. “Well, any friend of Qui Jinny is a friend uh mine.”

Ben chuckled, “Thank you, dear friend.”

Qui-Gon immediately cut in. “We are heading to Mos Espa, B’omar. Will you give us a ride?”

B’omar’s eyes narrowed, “Las I giv you a ride, my speeder disappeared in the middle uh the Xelric Draw, covered in them damned sand people.”

Ben intercepted with a gentle smile, “It is alright, dear B’omar. You can trust us.” The tone of his words was strangely warm and captivating. Qui-Gon couldn’t help but close his eyes and listen intently to the soft command. Of course he could trust Ben.  Of course-

The Jedi Master’s eyes snapped open. He had been nodding at Ben’s Force command, almost ready to repeat the words aloud. How in the Force was Ben so powerful?

B’omar smiled, dazed. “I can trust ye.” The spark of clarity filled the driver’s eyes once again and he gestured excitedly at the empty seats in his speeder.

 

***

Shopping with Old Ben was much easier than commanding the sands of the desert. Qui-Gon followed obediently along, carrying the sack the old man brought with him for food and supplies.

The market in Mos Espa was crowded and loud with angry shouts and haggling prices, children screaming, and the general hum of side conversations. Qui-Gon was fascinated with the Living Force surrounding the market square. It flowed through each individual, flaring with a sort of edge the Jedi Master realized was characteristic of all desert individuals.

It was satisfying to feel the Force this way again. He had spent so much time in Ben’s desert home meditating on the Unifying Force and commanding the sands to move. _This_ was like breathing. _This_ was peace.

Ben let him haggle the prices of some of the minor foodstuffs, but the rest the old man took on with ease. Qui-Gon was impressed by the elder’s negotiation skills. The man could outsmart most of the Jedi in the temple. Possibly even Qui-Gon himself.

Ben had a charming way of spinning his words and preventing no means of escape. He trapped his opponents in their own words, demanded their perfect attention, picked apart every word and detail that escaped from the merchants’ mouths.

It was remarkable and quite entertaining to watch.

Negotiation was just another skill Ben possessed. Qui-Gon was beginning to suspect he could almost rival Yoda in a battle of wits and the Force. Theirs would be an interesting debate to see.

“Master Jinn?” Ben’s voice came next to him and he turned to the elder man. “I am heading over to the Cantina. You are welcome to stay here and saturate yourself in the calming energies of the Living Force you crave so much.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “And what will you be doing? It is unhealthy for such old, decrepit men to risk their bones on strong Corellian ales.”

Ben glared at him. “You are old as well, Master Jinn. Be mindful of who you call _decrepit._ And I am not going in for a drink, just… _information_.” With a wave, he turned and vanished into the crowd. Qui-Gon stared after him confused. What in the Force did he mean by ‘information?’

The Jedi Master sighed and began to peruse the merchant shops. The traders did not beckon him with charming words and bragging. They recognized a customer with a buyer’s eye. And Qui-Gon did not have it. Nor did he seem like one of wealth. A Jedi owns no possessions, but it was interesting to see the various products lining dilapidated booths.

There were of course silks and furs, jewelry from rare planets, and exotic, caged animals being sold. The usual in any marketplace on any planet. But the Jedi Master also noticed datapads and holos attached somewhere in every hut, broadcasting stories from the holonet and showing holograms of strange men all in the same white armor, various officers adorned with strangely decorated uniforms, and…a man in black.

The figure caught Qui-Gon’s eyes at one of the booths and he leaned in closer to inspect the holo. It seemed to be a cyborg or droid of some sort, tall, dressed all in black armor. A life support system was attached to his chest plate. His head was covered by a mask. Two glossy, durasteel ridges swept out from the top of his head and curved toward the mask’s jaw, shadowing a set of round glossy eyes and breathing support.

The figure was terrifying. Qui-Gon could feel the _wrongness_ of it through the Force. Even through the holo, the masked creature was emotionless, machine, not _living_. Not living like Old Ben, or himself, or B’omar, or even the _sands._ This creature was evil, an abomination in the eyes of the Force.

He took a step back, prepared to leave when a voice came from the dark recesses of the vendor. “Can I help you, my friend?”

Qui-Gon blinked as the merchant drew forward into the light of the Tatooine sun. He was an old Dug, clothed in a leather vest and belt clipped with small rations and a sharp, ceremonial dagger. The Dug’s nose was pierced with a thick gold ring and his whiskers were beaded and wrapped. One eye was scarred and light milky blue in color. He was half blind.

“Ah. You are looking at the holo. The emperor’s right-hand man.” The words were hoarse and grated as if each word was a struggle to sound.

The dug drew closer and gripped the holo in one of his lower limbs. “It is law in the galaxy to show the empire’s propaganda on all trading outposts and vendors. An unfortunate one indeed. It is nearing Empire Day and the stormtroopers are becoming increasingly stricter on how the Empire’s victories are…broadcasted. _Poo doo,”_ The Dug spat and cursed in Huttesse.

Qui-Gon cocked his head, “Empire Day?”

The Dug snorted. “Official holiday of the galactic empire, celebrating the rise of _Emperor Palpatine_ to his high and mighty throne. But don’t repeat that too sarcastically. The stormtroopers will arrest you for treason and execute you in the square or subject you to the spice mines of Kessel.” The Dug burst into a fit of hacking that made Qui-Gon wince.

“Good luck on your travels, my friend. You seem… _new_ to the way things work around you. Be careful.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed. “Why have you told me this? Why have you warned me? I have observed the people here to be like the desert- rough and only concerned with their own well-beings.”

The Dug’s good eye rolled up to meet the tall Jedi Master. “I have been watching you speak with the Desert Man.” He chuckled at Qui-Gon’s confused stare. “Yes, I know of Old Ben. He is a good… _friend_ of mine. His trust is not easily earned and I have faith in his acquaintances. You will do well to remember that, my friend.”

The Dug disappeared back into the recesses of his dark hut and Qui-Gon could only stare perplexed in the middle of the market square.

***

Qui-Gon returned to his Force teachings the next morning, much to his chagrin and Ben’s amusement. The next few days seemed to pass in a blur of meals and failed attempts at sand manipulation. But the old man never seemed to lose patience with the Jedi Master. He seemed content enough to sit in the sands and observe Qui-gon quietly, only speaking to offer some hints of advice or encouragement.

As the next week came and went, Qui-Gon could _feel_ his content in life at Ben’s desert home. Life in the desert was simple, yet astonishing with each passing day. The Force was so strong in the Tatooine deserts, so wild and powerful. It was unruly and yet satisfying to delve into. He could _feel_ the life in the barren world, and somehow that life was far more interesting than any jungle or marsh he had ever meditated in.

Part of his delight came from Ben. The old man was so gentle and wise. Although powerful, he seemed humble and most of all tranquil. The Jedi Masters in the temple could be strangely intimidating and not at all serene like the white-haired man of the deserts. Ben was patient and they were _hard_ and _unforgiving._ Here, Qui-Gon felt his troubles ease just standing near the old man.

Bliss, Qui-Gon realized, came from simple moments with Ben like washing the dishes after meals or taking evening walks over the sand dunes to listen to the call of the Force in the wind.

Old Ben seemed to know every one of Qui-Gon’s faults but encouraged the Jedi Master to accept them and move on from such weaknesses. The Masters in the temple would preach to him about the Code.

Ben directed him to the Force.

***

Content in the routines of his simple desert life, it was an abrupt shock to Qui-Gon when the spell was broken. He had risen early in the morning to help Ben with the morning meal, but the old man was nowhere to be seen in the desert hut.

Qui-Gon reached into the Force, wondering for a brief heart-stopping moment if Ben was hurt and lost somewhere out in the desert. But the Force warned him to stay in the hut and wait. _Leave him_. It seemed to say. _Give him space. Be patient._

It was at that precise moment he realized that the chest sitting in the corner of the room next to the door was open and empty.

The Force nudged him away from his curiosity.

 Qui-Gon reluctantly turned away from the gilded chest and began his morning routine… _alone._

_***_

The Jedi Master turned to meditations to calm his frazzled nerves. He sat cross-legged on the carpet in his cellar room and reached deeply into the Force.

It seemed to shift and roll away from his conscious every time he touched its surface. Qui-Gon knew he was too anxious to properly merge into the Force. He knew he should release such debilitating emotions into the roiling power. But it was difficult without Ben in the hut. There was no tranquility here without the Master of the Sands.

***

Qui-Gon braved the Force’s warning and decided to step outside the hut with the intention of performing high-energy katas. He scanned the desert horizon with desperate eyes yet knew deep down that he wouldn’t see Ben among the dunes of sand. But it was difficult not to search anyway and worry for the man’s safety.

Qui-Gon trudged, disillusioned over to their usual meditation spot in the sands and ignited his saber.

His heart wasn’t into the katas. Each spin, lunge, or crouch was executed like second nature. It was flippant… Force-less. Qui-Gon despaired over his slip in control. His emotions were unnaturally strong and _depressed_ today.

Ben was gone. His source of tranquility and familiarity was gone.

And for once, Qui-Gon didn’t know what to do.

***

The suns were setting. Qui-Gon watched them all afternoon from the window of Ben’s hut as they slowly glided toward the desert surface. He counted every second, minute, and hour as each passed.

And still, the old man did not return.

***

The Tatooine skies were dark when Qui-Gon felt his impatience too unbearable to stand. He set off into the desert with the intention of finding and _bringing_ Ben _back._

The desert was cold during such late times. Qui-Gon drew his robe tighter around his body as he set in a direction shown to him only by the Force. It was quiet in his mind, resigned, offering only soft directions as the Jedi Master plowed along with determination.

Qui-Gon could just barely sense the old man’s Force impression in the sands, but it was enough of a signature to track the Master of the Sands.

The Jedi Master climbed the peak of one large dune and froze in surprise.

Ben. 

The old man was kneeling on the peak of the next dune of sand.

But the image was _wrong_.

Because Ben’s shoulders were shaking with barely audible sobs. He was curled in on himself, white hair falling into grief-filled, tearing eyes. And he was clutching something so tightly in his hands that the knuckles were white and the muscles ridged on his arms. Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed at the object glinting in the light of one of Tatooine’s three moons.

A lightsaber.

Ben was clutching a lightsaber too his chest.

Qui-Gon took a step forward and instantly collapsed against the dune of sand as wave after wave of _grief_ slammed into his heart from the Force.

The Jedi Master let out a pained cry as the torment seemed to strip the content of the past weeks from his bones. The suffering curled like poison in his lungs until he was chocking in the agony of grief, despair, regret.

Each emotion struck out at Qui-Gon like spears tipped with the sharp heads of torment.

The Jedi Master rolled onto his side and froze as he met Ben’s pain-filled, blue eyes. The Master of the Sands looked on with such anguish that Qui-Gon could _feel_ the elder man’s heart breaking.

He stared into those wizened blue eyes that now glowed with a broken vulnerability Qui-Gon recognized from a week ago when the Jedi Master mentioned the chest.

Those eyes held a thousand years of betrayal. They held ruined regret. They reflected the deepest pains of one who loved and lost.

They were shadowed with the crushing weight of someone who had their very soul destroyed.

And Qui-Gon cried out at the hurt.

He desperately reached out for Ben. The elder man was so broken, so _lost_. If he shattered, Qui-Gon would lose that light forever.

He could not break. He could not be destroyed.

Qui-Gon called out to Ben with hoarse, pained words and was answered with an onslaught of agonized memories.

_How would you feel if I turned into a major disappointment….?_

_That isn’t true. And never will be._

_You are strong and wise and I am very proud of you .I have trained you since you were a small boy. I have taught you everything I know._

_Master! May the Force be with you._

Goodbye old friend _._

_May the Force be with you._

_I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire…._

_Don’t make me kill you._

_I have failed you._

_I have failed you._

_I hate you!_

_You were my_ brother _._

_I_ loved _you._

**But I could not save you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That ending was really difficult to write, but I got through it (phew). Next chapter should be up later in a few days...or a week....


	6. And Who Are You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially the relationship between Ben and Qui-Gon was meant to be platonic, but you can read it however you desire. It works either way...

Qui-Gon lay still in his cot, eyes locked unmoving on the ceiling. He could count the cracks in the Synth stone even through the darkness. There were four hundred and twenty-nine. He had counted them at least three times.

Still he could not fall asleep.

Images of Ben’s grief-stricken face kept flashing in his mind, seared painfully behind his eyelids as he tried to sleep. The pain-filled sobs that had escaped the old man’s throat drummed furiously in his ears and his toes curled. His chest ached with terrible hurt.

Now in the darkness he was alone with his pain and with his thoughts.

And each one pointed to Ben.

He had only lived in Ben’s hut for a couple weeks, certainly not enough time to grow to care for someone so strongly. But now his heart beat in the same broken rhythm as the old man’s did. He couldn’t exactly place that feeling. It was like he _knew_ Ben somewhere deep in his soul; like they were old friends in some other reality.

Qui-Gon had only a few mentors in his lifetime, but none of them were as understanding and patient as Old Ben. Master Dooku had been a stern, cold teacher during his Padawan days. They did not have a close bond, mainly because his Master never really understood his affinity with the Living Force. Dooku had only really been a means to attain Knighthood. And after that achievement, they had drifted apart. Qui-Gon hadn’t seen or talked to his Master in years.

 Yoda certainly came close. The green troll hadn’t kicked him out of the Order yet for being the “unorthodox” Jedi in the Temple. And he had pushed him to let go of his attachment to Xanatos and accept Obi-Wan as his Padawan. His apprentice was the light in his life. Qui-Gon would always be grateful for Yoda’s bold move. However, Yoda was a strange creature. One moment he could be benevolent, and on rare occasions, humorous, and the next…cold and stern.

But Ben was different.

He understood the Jedi Master even more than Qui-Gon knew _himself._ Ben pushed him past his limits with gentle words of encouragement and impossible patience. The man never really scolded him for his many mistakes. There was teasing, of course, but it was fond and affectionate. With Ben around, Qui-Gon felt he could do anything.

This was attachment. The Jedi Master wouldn’t deny it. It just felt so _right_ to be near the old man, to learn from him, to laugh and jest, cook meals, and fix moisture vaporators with him. In fact, Qui-Gon _loved_ him. All of him. Even the simple parts that deigned to sit in a humble home and sip tea in cushioned chairs.

It was during these silent, reflective moments that Qui-Gon could sink easily into a light trance and enjoy the peace radiating off Ben’s Force signature. The ease the man projected could wash all the tiredness from his limbs and the worries from his mind. When he brought himself out of meditation, Ben’s warm face was the first thing he could see and Qui-Gon’s heart would stir in happiness.

 He _knew_ it would break his heart to leave Ben, to return to his own time.

So he didn’t dwell on the agonizing thought.

As his eyes slipped shut, Qui-Gon could only think of Ben.

***

The Jedi Master hesitantly raised the trapdoor to the cellar and lifted his nose to the air. The scent of boiling herbs wafted throughout the room. Qui-Gon sighed in relief.

Ben was here. Ben was awake.

Qui-Gon padded slowly into the kitchen and froze in the doorway at the sight before him.

The elder man was curled in one of the cushioned chairs in the main room. He was still, staring down into the tea cup clutched tightly in two white hands, eyes shadowed and unreadable. Strands of hair hung over the bowed face and eyes, shielding the old man from the world.

Qui-Gon strode quickly into the room and kneeled at the old man’s feet. Delicately, he reached out and placed a hand on the elder man’s shoulder.

“Ben?” The Jedi Master whispered quietly.

Ben shuddered and lifted his gaze from the still, golden water to a pair of concerned eyes. Qui-Gon took the cup from the old man’s hands and set it on the side table. The elder sighed in response and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Pain rippled like a knife wound in the Force.

“Oh, Ben.” Qui-Gon murmured sorrowfully as the ache settled in between his ribs. He drew the old man’s hands away from his weathered face and clutched them tightly in his own. Ben remained still, eyes squeezed shut as Qui-Gon held those wrinkled hands in his own.

The Jedi Master reached forward and placed a gentle hand on Ben’s warm cheek. Those eyes opened and revealed cerulean gray eyes throbbing in grief.

Ben sighed again and attempted a reassuring smile.

It came out as more a grimace than comfort.

“I am alright, Qui-Gon.”  The words came out in a soft, broken whisper, so unlike the cultured, rich sounds of his accented voice. The Jedi Master’s eyes narrowed in response and Ben smiled gently. “Well, perhaps not now…but I will be.”

The elder man’s voice took on a reflective tone, and gray-blue eyes shifted to the door of the hut and beyond in the distance. Beyond even any physical destination. His heart was turned to some distant memory, some intangible feeling that comes when reminiscing the past.

Qui-Gon squeezed his hands, returning Ben from his recollections. The old man offered a more real smile this time, one filled with sadness, yes, but a calm one now. The elder freed one of his hands from the Jedi Master’s grasp and trailed his fingers lightly through Qui-Gon’s long hair.

Wistfully, Ben spoke softly, “Why do you kneel, Master Jedi?

Qui-Gon didn’t hesitate to reply. “You are my teacher, and an obedient student is a respectful one. You are hurt, badly. I worry for you, Master Ben.”

The old man’s hands froze in his hair. “ _Master?”_

Qui-Gon lifted his gaze in defiance. “You didn’t think I would find out your secret, _Master Jedi_? You forget that I was there that night, watching you kneel in the sand dunes, holding a _lightsaber_ in your hands. A lightsaber is the weapon of a Jedi Knight. You could not have come across one so easily if you were not a Jedi. Why did you lie?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed.

“Obedient student,” he scoffed. “If you had any respect for me at all, Master Jinn, you would not devote your time to _exploiting_ the secrets that do not belong to your ears or your eyes. Jedi Initiates are taught from the creche to rely on the Force, and yet, you make judgments so quickly without consulting that great entity. That is why you are mistaken.  If only you would _see_ and _hear_. Then you would know that that lightsaber does not belong to me!”

The man’s voice had risen during his lecture and Qui-Gon couldn’t help but raise his own in return. “I do not need the Force to remember all the times you have mentioned the lessons taught to Jedi in the Temple. Sacred lessons. Lessons not shared with the public. And _you_ seem to know every secret. I am one of the greatest negotiators in the Temple, and I _know_ I have backed you into a corner, Master Ben. Explain yourself.”

Ben glared at him. “It is about time you have listened to the Force, Qui-Gon. I made it entirely easy for you to figure out that my Force affinity is not just some…bizarre occurrence.” Abruptly, his coldness fled and the elder man’s voice softened. “Easy…yes. Perhaps I made it _too_ easy. I think…I…wanted it to be like old times, the times _so long ago_ in my mind that sometimes I feel they will disappear from my heart forever. It rips me apart inside to know you, and have you look on me as if I am a stranger to you.”

Qui-Gon’s anger faded. “What do you mean, Ben?”

The old man sighed and stood. “Walk with me, Master Jinn.”

The pair was silent as they trailed lightly over the hills of sand, away from the vaporators, away from the hut filled with pain and anger and sorrow, away from machine and into the desert wilderness teeming with the Force.

Ben had donned his cloak and walked, cowl pulled high up over his head. Qui-Gon couldn’t help but glance at the shorter man in trepidation.

The Jedi Master could feel the nervous rolling of the Force. It was disconcertingly expectant and eager for _something._ It weighed so heavily in the air, like a cloud of powder or a haze of gloomy clouds awaiting a burst, a spark, an ignition that would set off explosions, split lightning through the sky. Qui-Gon knew that the inevitable conversation with Ben would have lasting consequences, a climax that abruptly flipped routine end-over-end and into change.

For once, Qui-Gon wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing.

The old man stopped in their meditation spot, back turned on Qui-Gon. He stared searchingly into the distance, eyes once again hazy, caught in the memories of a quieter past. The Jedi Master waited patiently behind him. At last, Ben spoke.

“The Force has made it clear to me that you are ready for a new lesson, Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon sighed. “How am I ready for a new lesson? I could not pass the old. I am still unable to command the sands as you showed me.”

Ben was silent a moment before a wide grin split his face and he chuckled. “The lesson’s purpose, dear friend, was not to be able to make shapes in the sand with the Force. No, Master Jinn. You were supposed to learn to let go of your conscious self, to rely so heavily on the Force that it became a part of your body, part of your mind and heart and soul. You were taught to connect to the Force, each and every one of its fragmented, physical parts and separate the patterns, learn of its ancient and wise signature, use its power as the gift was intended.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “I have learned nothing of that, yet, Ben. You have made it quite clear that I don’t rely on the Force enough for guidance.”

Ben smiled. “Exactly. The Force desires a new approach. You are connected so closely with the Living Force, Master Jedi. Perhaps you will learn easier with a few answers. Force knows my own apprentice struggled so uproariously through the Force’s obfuscation.”

Qui-Gon stepped forward. “I am afraid I still don’t understand, Master Ben.”

The old man turned, finally, and looked him straight in the eye. “You struggle because you do not see all the strands that tangle the web, the knots that hold the rope, the pieces that form the lightsaber in your hands. You are blind, Qui-Gon, and I will help you see. But not as your master. I see that now.”

The Jedi Master’s brows wrinkled in confusion. “And how am I supposed to learn if I have no teacher?”

Ben smirked. “You will have a _friend_ , dear Master.”

Qui-Gon was at a loss for words. “I…I-”

“You still do not know who I am. Force’s will be damned by you, Master Jinn. You never change.” A soft smile.

Qui-Gon was hesitant to raise the question, but the words seemed to fall off his lips without his consent. “And who are you?”

“I have been many things in my lifetime. A Padawan, a Knight, Master, General, friend, brother, and now a crazy old man living in the desert. Now I am only Ben.” Those blue eyes sparkled with bright amusement, humor that was so familiar and recognizable it was almost painful. The old man bowed deeply to him.

“But I also had a name no longer recognized on any world in this dreadful Empire. A name not spoken of safely by any tongue or transcribed on any data pad. A name that you know quite well.” The old man’s lips twisted into an amused smirk and the familiarity hit Qui-Gon like a speeder, furiously and painfully obvious. He recoiled away from the words even as they struck him true in the Force.

“My name, Master Jinn, was Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know it's short, but hey it's a chapter. And that cliff-hanger, though. Amazing right? :)  
> Next chapter is going to be pretty freaking awesome...


	7. But We Are Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH! I know I haven't updated in a while, I'm sorry! School has been demanding all of my time. But I've had time this weekend to work on this chapter! Yay!  
> And it's a LOOONG one too. Took forever...
> 
> I can't thank you guys enough for your amazing comments! Reading them makes my day (especially if it's a rough one) and inspires me to continue writing. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!  
> So without further ado...  
> Read on!

_“My name, Master Jinn, was Obi-Wan Kenobi.”_

_Obi-Wan Kenobi._

_Obi-Wan._

Qui-Gon gaped at the elder figure standing before him, robes rippling in the desert breeze. He stared at the white hair that framed the old man’s face. The tanned and weathered skin- compliments of a harsh desert life. The wrinkles that graced the corner of those blue eyes, curved at the sides of his lips, creased his forehead in the expression of gentle amusement.

_Obi-Wan._

_No._

Qui-Gon shook his head.

_No, no, no._

It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be his Padawan, his child of light. This was an old man he saw before him, weary in the hot suns of this arid planet, alone in his exile in the desert. _Not_ his Obi-Wan.

But even as he denied it, the Force surged in his mind and his soul and his heart.

 _This is Obi-Wan,_ it whispered softly to him, encouraged him.

Qui-Gon took a step back, away from the old man standing on the high dune, away from deep blue-gray eyes that clouded with hurt. The Jedi Master was still shaking his head as he moved away. He needed to get away. Far away. From Ben.

 “ _No._ You are _not_ Obi-Wan…You _can’t_ be,” he whispered, pain lancing through his heart as the truth beat down on his soul.

The old man’s eyes softened in pity. “Oh, how wrong you are, Master.”

 _Master._ Qui-Gon shuddered and closed his eyes. Perhaps if he shut them, he wouldn’t see his Padawan in the old man. The image would disappear, and he would awaken in the morning, relieved, because this was only a dream. He would wake up from his cot in the cellar and push that trapdoor open to morning air and Tander tea. The figure before him would just be Crazy Old Ben, and they would sit quietly in the Main Room until it was time to go outside and monitor the moisture vaporators. They would sit and meditate and practice in the sands until the suns set. They would have supper together and then bid each other goodnight and sleep…and then rise early in the morning again to repeat the routine.

“Listen to the Force, Qui-Gon. It whispers to you even now the truth of my words. I am Ben Kenobi. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. I have always been both, and you _know_ this to be true. You _have_ known this ever since I appeared to you in the canyon, scattering the Tusken Raiders away with a krayt dragon call. You always knew I was Obi-Wan. Don’t deny the Force now.” The elder man’s words softened. The Coruscanti accent Qui-Gon could now recognize easily. Obi-Wan.

Ben was Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon shuddered harder. His knees were weak. His head was swimming. His eyes were blurry, and it took a moment to realize why. Tears were clouding his vision and rolling endlessly down his cheeks. It seemed the galaxy had crashed down upon the Jedi Master’s shoulders. He was holding the weight of the world upon weakened muscles and bones that ached and groaned as they shouldered the weight, powered only by a heart that seemed to tremble with every beat.  With a moan, he sank to his knees in the sand and bowed his head.

_Ben is Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. Oh, Padawan._

Sobs wracked the Jedi Master’s body, painful, broken sobs. His mind flashed with the memories of his days in the sands of Tatooine with a man he didn’t even realize was his Padawan. No. He had known it. It seemed he’d always known, but like a fool, he ignored the Force, ignored the truth, and ignored the implications of living in the moment without an eye on what was actually happening in the moment. He had wronged his Padawan greatly, hurt him terribly.

_Come back to me, Master._

That voice. Qui-Gon trembled and recoiled deeper into himself, into his consciousness where it was safe. Where he could no longer hurt his Padawan with his ignorance. Where he could no longer hurt anyone with his ignorance. Blindness is folly. Those were words that Obi-Wan had given to him not long ago. And oh, was he blind. He was a blind fool.

_You must not sink any further into your mind, Master. Come back._

He couldn’t. How could he face his Padawan? How could he face the man he had come to love? This elder man, his Padawan, his _teacher._ How could he come back?

_Qui-Gon. That is enough._

It was a firm command, a teacher’s command that he couldn’t ignore. Qui-Gon reached out to the gentle pulses of the Force, felt Obi-Wan’s Force signature stretching out in his mind, calling for him through the nether of the great entity. He would not deny his Padawan. Not now. Not ever again.

The bright suns of Tatooine seared through the dark of his closed eyes. A shadow fell over his crouched form and Qui-Gon raised his head and his heart to the figure that stood above him, arm outstretched and beckoning. The Jedi Master smiled gratefully and gripped the hand offered to him, memorizing the lines that sank deeply in the tanned, weathered skin, reveled in the warmth as fingers squeezed his own.

And then Qui-Gon was pulled up from the sands and into the here and now.

***

Obi-Wan smiled down at him gently, and Qui-Gon couldn’t help but reach out and lay his palm against his Padawan’s cheek. Blue eyes lightened immediately and a hand was raised to cover the Jedi's.

“Padawan.” Qui-Gon murmured simply and pulled his old apprentice into a tight embrace. He felt hands fist into his tunics and robe and he squeezed Obi-Wan tighter against him.

It seemed the world had brightened significantly. When the Jedi Master had come to Tatooine in the future or in a vision or whatever this was, he was alone. So alone. The Jedi were gone here in this time.

But now Ben was here. His Obi-Wan was here in his arms.

Qui-Gon let out a relieved breath and relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Obi-Wan grumbled softly. “You must realize, Master Jinn, that I am not a twenty-year-old Padawan any longer. Quite older in fact. If you hold me any tighter, these old bones shall break.”

Qui-Gon winced. Of course this was a different time entirely. The man in his arms was _right._ Ben wasn’t his Padawan. He was old…probably older than the Jedi Master himself. The thought grieved him that he hadn’t the slightest idea how Obi-Wan was Knighted and how he fared in his Jedi life.

It must have been cut short when the Republic fell and the Jedi Order became extinct. Qui-Gon’s heart broke as he realized that his Obi-Wan was living in hiding, was living in _exile_ here. Alone. Without the Jedi. Without his friends and family. How long had he been here?

“Not very long, Master Jinn. Though I can’t say for certain. Time in the desert runs differently. Some days it is as swift as the wind passing down the mountain-side, or as slow as the banthas that migrate across the desert plains in leisure.” Obi-Wan’s gaze shifted away from the Jedi Master and toward the sands beyond. His blue eyes misted in what Qui-Gon recognized as resigned nostalgia. Once again the Jedi Master was surprised at this Obi-Wan’s age. He had seen and experienced so much. Probably much more than the Jedi Master himself.

“And the Jedi…?” He ventured hesitantly. Obi-Wan frowned, eyes darkening with pain. Qui-Gon’s hands itched to comfort his suffering Padawan. He wanted to draw his old apprentice into his arms and never let him go. He wanted to erase all the misery and agony from his Padawan’s past until he had never known what pain was. His duty was to protect his Padawan.

As if sensing the determination, Obi-Wan turned, amused. “It has been a long time since I was a Padawan. I do not need your protection.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “You will always be my Padawan, Obi-Wan.” He murmured.

Ben froze, surprise flitting across his features before it was replaced with grief. Why did the statement cause him anguish? What had he said?

Qui-Gon stepped forward anxiously to comfort his Padawan, but Obi-Wan stepped away from him with a frown. “I am quite alright, Master.” He didn’t believe the words. Not one bit. “Enough talk of painful things. I may have been your Padawan once, perhaps I still am, but I was also a Jedi Master once, too, and there is work still to be done.” Obi-Wan smiled and turned away, already moving away down the slope of the sand dune. His face was emotionless, calm, as if pain had never graced those features.

 Qui-Gon frowned. This had always been Obi-Wan’s coping mechanism. Ignore the pain. Ignore the hands offered to comfort. 

Some things never changed it seemed.

Qui-Gon followed, tucking his hands into the voluminous folds of his Jedi robe. He would keep his Obi-Wan safe, always. Even if his Padawan did not want the protection.

***

The pair stopped in their usual meditation spot. Qui-Gon watched as Ben settled deeply into the sands with a soft sigh, tipping his head back as the wind caressed his white hair. The Jedi Master itched to take his Padawan into his arms and never let him go. Instead he smiled and closed his eyes, sinking into a light trance.

The Force seemed relaxed today, pleased at the atmosphere between the pair. No longer were there secrets between the two. In fact, it was easy, almost effortless to sink into a deeper meditation, wade into the depths of the Force.

Qui-Gon’s heart slowed and even breaths escaped his mouth as he joined with the great power. The Force pulsed gently in his soul, flowed through his blood, twisted in his every muscle and bone. It spread through every particle in his body, warming as it travelled, releasing the tension in his joints. _Relax._ It whispered. Here he was vulnerable and yet completely safe. The Force was in all things, in every fiber of his being. The light entity embraced him in warmth, swept away his aches and troubles. It caressed his heart and whispered of a content future. _Relax…and let go._

Qui-Gon inhaled deeply and opened his eyes to find Ben watching him, head cocked slightly in interest. Obi-Wan smiled. “I apologize for disturbing you. It has always been fascinating for me to see you delve so deeply into the Force. I have never seen someone with a deeper connection to its living blood.”

The Jedi Master chuckled, “And yet I still have much to learn about its soul.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes twinkled. Qui-Gon was again reminded of Ben’s age. This was a wizened man before him, wise in his many experiences. The twinkle in his eyes was that of a proud teacher, one who acknowledges his student’s success and still knows there will be plenty of trials and rewards yet left in the future. It was incredibly humbling.

Qui-Gon bowed his head to his former Padawan. “Master Kenobi.” He murmured respectfully. The old man’s face was surprised and a little uncertain before a mockingly exasperated expression twisted his lips. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

 

“Yes, you never do things by halves. Mind your tongue, Master Jinn. Sarcasm will get you nowhere, especially those in the form of _flatteries._ ”

Qui-Gon chuckled and leaned back, scooping a handful of sand in his palm. “I think I am ready to try this again, Obi-Wan.”

The old man stroked his white beard and eyed him thoughtfully. “Only you know if you are ready.”

The Jedi Master raised his palm and sank into the Force.

Oh how it was different this time. The Force was lighter, like a flowing river or a rippling pond, easy to submerge in. It surged in his soul, peaceful and determined all at once, ready to teach and obey. The Jedi Master stretched out with his feelings, with his own signature, searching for the golden strands of the living Force.

He could sense Ben’s presence immediately. His padawan was a bright light, a pure flame in the nether of the Force. He was a peaceful beacon that gave Qui-Gon the confidence to delve even deeper, searching for the primitive souls of the sands.

The grains in his palms seemed to warm, responding eagerly to his Force call. He expanded his reach, embracing each soul into his own mind, taking the time to direct them into the web of the force.

The sands in his palm began to move and shape in the air.

 _Concentrate on the here and now._ It was Obi-Wan’s voice in his head.

Qui-Gon immediately shuttered the goal forming in his mind. His unconscious knew the shape the sands were meant to form, but the grains were moving now. And that was all that mattered.

He commanded each grain to find its place in the net of the force, in the net of its brothers and sisters. For this was their duty, and his was to enforce.

The grains were stubborn, slippery things in his palms. They wanted to escape and spill out of his hand into the sea of particles below, but he reined them into his Force presence. Calling on the great entity, he sent a wave into the sands and the Force responded, joining the particles together to form solid shapes.

And he understood.

Always proud was he when it came to his connection with the Living Force. He knew the inner-workings of an existing being with a soul. And he knew the Living Force connected all organisms with purposes and paths that had to be traversed before the end. Every moment marked another second of life and death, both tallies of existence. Tallies of Life.

Here and now. That was ‘purpose’.

But ‘purpose’ joined ‘reason’, and that was something he was too proud to show. _Reason_ connected with the future. _Reason_ meant that he was not all-knowing and powerful. He did not have knowledge of all the Force and that was ‘reason’. That was common sense.

Like a fool, he had spoken and acted in the name of the great entity and had not the reason to understand his wrong-doings. For the Force controlled all. It knew the future.

 And he did not.

Qui-Gon was like the grains of sand in his palm, eager to join with the Force, yet unwilling to accept its will. He had not listened to its gentle pulses on the Tatooine sands before he fell into the future. He had been blinded by a bright soul, blinded by desire, and a prophecy. And he had coerced the Force into bending its will for his own purposes.

_Reason._

Living Force and Unifying Force. Purpose and Reason. Both were essential parts of the Force’s entity and soul. Without one, the other failed to sustain life.

 _Live in the here and now, but not at the expense of that which is to come._   

Warmth settled deeply into Qui-Gon’s bones as he touched the bonds that connected his soul to those of the sands in his palms. They responded warmly, rippling in their place, making the shapes hovering in the air shine and shift.

Qui-Gon knew the shapes of the sands even though his eyes were closed. The Force gave him sight.

So he knew the gently shifting form of a figure standing at the base of a sand hut, facing the twin suns in the distance. He could _feel_ the yearning of the figure gazing at the sunset, a yearning to reach out to the stars, a yearning to escape the dust hovel and embrace destiny.

The Force beckoned him to return to the physical plane and Qui-Gon reluctantly obeyed. But not before the Jedi Master caught a final emotion that saturated the scene.

Hope.

***

Qui-Gon met the eyes of his Obi-Wan as he returned to his own body. The deep blue-gray reflected delight and pride. “Well done, Master.” He murmured gently and took Qui Gon’s hands in his own.

The Jedi Master breathed deeply and squeezed the palms that encased his own. They were warm and lined and familiar. Holding Obi-Wan’s hands was like returning home. Here he knew his Ben was safe. And he knew he was safe with his Padawan. “My success is only by the grace of your teaching, Obi-Wan,” he replied, smiling at the scowl that was returned.

“You have passed a great test, Master, and will soon learn a final one at the Force’s will.” Ben’s words were gentle, but Qui-Gon could still read the sadness that toned just beneath. Pain crept through his heart as he realized the implications of this final test.

This trial would take him away from Obi-Wan. His time here was almost complete.

Qui-Gon sucked in a sharp breath as the grief tore at his chest, ripped into the organs there with the white-hot burn of a lightsaber. A stab wound that left a hole as empty and hollow as death. Tears slipped unbidden down his cheeks.

The Jedi Master heard the gentle swish of sand as Obi-Wan moved in front of him. Gently, his old Padawan laid a hand against his cheek. “Wipe your tears, Master. This is not the end. Here and now, remember?” Qui-Gon raised his head and looked into the face of his light. The blue eyes were filled with painful resignation. The smile that graced his lips was small, barely visible.

But it was a true smile.

Qui-Gon gripped the hand that touched his cheek and offered a small smile in return.

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the Jedi Master’s forehead. “Weep not, my Master. Our journey is a harsh one. But we are light.”

And then Obi-Wan shifted closer and pulled Qui-Gon into his arms.

The Jedi Master rested his head against Ben’s chest and closed his eyes as warm, firm hands stroked his hair. With a sigh he let go of his worries. Here and now. He would not focus on the future.

Here and now with Obi-Wan rocking him gently in the sand stroking his hair.

Here and now.

***

The next few days passed as quickly as all the others before. The routine changed only slightly: waking up to tea and moisture vaporators and ending the day with meditations and supper. But now they talked. They shared stories from Obi-Wan’s Padawan days, laughed at old memories regarding old missions and planets.

Qui-Gon had tried once to get Ben to share his days as a Knight. But his former Padawan had a skillful way of redirecting their conversation or replying with something so vague, it was just an observation and not any reminisced event. It infuriated the Jedi Master that Obi-Wan still distrusted him with his past.

 And the secrets of his heart.

Obi-Wan did not explain that night deep in the desert plains when he had clutched a lightsaber in white palms and tore through the force with unmatched sorrow and agony. Qui-Gon feared that if he brought up that night or the lightsaber, his Padawan would revert back to that horrific night. He _never_ wanted to see that endless torture that sobbed through his Padawans’ broken soul again.

So he didn’t bring up difficult questions. Instead he looked forward to each day that came with his Obi-Wan, his light.

 

“It is time to go into the market again.” Obi-Wan announced over tea in the morning. He was sitting in his cushioned chair, braiding Qui-Gon’s hair with deft fingers as the Jedi Master sat on the furred carpet in front of him.

Qui-Gon smiled. “Of course…Master.”

Ben jerked his hair roughly in retaliation. “Impudent student.”

“A student learns from his Master. The fault lies with you.” Qui-Gon sipped his tea, chuckling.

“Hmph.” Obi-Wan released the finished braid and leaned back. “There are many ways to get rid of disrespectful students. The desert has a fine way of ensuring that people…. _disappear_.”

Qui-Gon turned with narrowed eyes. “Are you threatening me, Master Kenobi? A Jedi is forbidden to act in such aggressive ways.”

Obi-Wan snorted and rolled his eyes. “I am no Jedi. Not anymore.”

The playful mood dissipated in Qui-Gon’s heart. _I am no Jedi._ The words echoed painfully in his ears. He could only remember Obi-Wan as the most determined Initiate and Padawan. He had ignored Qui-Gon’s rejection of him their first days together on Bandomeer and fought by his side through every attack that followed their Master/Padawan adventures. He plunged into his studies with a thirst for knowledge and perfection. He had always desired approval and recognition and love. It was his greatest desire to become a Jedi Knight. And now, he was denying it so flippantly. _I am no Jedi._

_Oh, Padawan, what happened to your light?_

***

“You are awfully quiet, Master Jinn. Is something wrong?”

Qui-Gon turned and glanced down at the smaller man walking by his side in the desert sand. “No. I am just…appreciating the view.”

Obi-Wan raised his brow. “Ah. Of course. Then I shall leave you to enjoy the grandeurs of the endless arid plains. There are no surprises here in the desert. Why, if you look out beyond, there is sand…more sand there…and, ah yes, there is a mountain in the distance. Or is that another dune of _sand_?”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “I believe it was you who told me that sarcasm is unbefitting of a Jedi Master.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “I am just a Crazy Old Wizard in the desert, Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon hummed and smiled. Obi-Wan, no matter how old, always seemed to find humor in unseemly situations. “Do you recall our mission to Erbraxos? The shaman who convinced the people he was an immortal god from their moon?”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Of course. He was just a failed street performer from his home planet and somehow ended up far out in the outer rim. His affinity for blowing things up certainly saved him on that primitive planet.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you can learn from his…achievements. You are quite the spectacle here on Tatooine. Perhaps a demonstration is in order. You must live up to your name.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Yes, of course. It is my greatest desire to achieve fame and fortune.”

“My friend, you are….Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon broke off abruptly and stared at the old man who had frozen beside him.

Obi-Wan cocked his head slightly as if listening for something. His shoulders were tense, body straight and unmoving, almost as if he was prepared to run. Qui-Gon watched his face pale.

“Ben, what-”

His Padawan stepped forward. “Hush, Qui-Gon. There is….something out there…elusive…and…” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes into the distance. They were nearing the rocky basin that was one of the obstacles into Mos Espa. Beyond that was a valley of hills and dunes of sand. Nothing dangerous that Qui-Gon could see. But then again the Tuskens were proficient at hiding…

Obi-Wan whirled around and seized his robes. “Run! Qui-Gon…”

It was too late to run. Before he knew or saw what happened, Obi-Wan had shoved him away hard into the sand. There was a deafening explosion to his right where he and Obi-Wan had just been standing. The blast was harsh, kicking swaths of sand high into the air, rumbling painfully in his ears.

The Force pulsed in warning. The danger wasn’t over yet.

“Obi-Wan!” The Jedi Master cried, jumping easily to his feet. He ignored the painful ringing in his ears as he surged from the ground.

There were clouds of dust and sand everywhere in the air, heavy and stinging in his eyes and on his skin. The world was bathed in the bright red and pink of the top-sands.

Where was Ben? Where was his Padawan?

A flash of white ahead and Qui-Gon lunged forward toward the figure on the ground. Obi-Wan was groaning and struggling to get to his feet. The blast must have knocked him away from the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon reached for his Padawan, pulling him up gently.

He turned to Ben to ask him if he was hurt, but his Padawan was staring hard over his shoulder. Qui-Gon turned to see three figures walking through the clouds of sand toward them. Their figures were distorted, but from the silhouettes, the middle personage was abnormally taller than the others…and was carrying an impressive array of weapons.

As the sands dissipated in the air, Qui-Gon recognized two armed Weequay holding small blasters. They flanked a very large Wookiee, black, and armored with a gold chest plate and arm bands. Slung over his back was a sizeable bowcaster.  

Obi-Wan stepped forward, away from Qui Gon’s warning hand toward the three attackers. He opened his mouth to speak but one of the Weequay beat him to it. “Old man. You haven’t paid your water tax. Jabba doesn’t like those who break his rules.”

The elder man cocked his head as if confused. “I am sorry, my friends, but I have no idea as to what-”

The Weequay growled and raised his blaster at Ben. “Don’t play stupid with me, old man.”Qui-Gon leaned forward slightly, every nerve in his body begging to leap forward in front of his Padawan and protect him from the danger. “ _You_ have not paid any taxes. Any one of Jabba’s men can attest to that. We know where you live. _You_ have vaporators.”

Obi-Wan chuckled calmly. “Ah. Those old things. They don’t work. I don’t have any parts or ideas as to how they can be fixed.”

The Weequay smiled. “Lowly little liar. We’ve seen their lights come on late at night. Not working indeed. Do you know what Jabba does to liars?” The figure stepped forward, grinning. “They are taken alive to Jabba’s palace and suffer for his…entertainment. Or die trying to fight back. So what is it going to be, old man? I haven’t got all day.”

Qui-Gon watched in shocked fascination as his Padawan pretended to consider the notion. “You place me in a difficult situation. Not one of them seems very… enjoyable.” Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eye as the Weequay snorted. It was a short look, yet filled with warning and instruction.

The Jedi Master nodded and brushed his fingers casually against the hilt of his lightsaber hidden deep in the folds of his robe.

The Weequay was still grinning as he murmured. “Only one of you has to suffer at Jabba’s hand. The other can die here on the sands.”

Jabba’s henchmen immediately open-fired and Qui-Gon lunged in front of Obi-Wan, lightsaber already ignited and blocking the multiple laser blasts arcing toward his vulnerable Padawan. The Wookiee let out an earsplitting yell and reached behind his large body for the bowcaster.

Qui-Gon sent a blaster bolt toward the first Weequay, knocking the gun out of the henchman’s hands. The next bolt followed quickly after, hitting the attacker in the chest and sending the enemy sprawling limply in the sands.

One down.

Qui-Gon looked over at his Padawan standing off to the side, weapon-less, but quite confident as he stood glaring at the Wookiee. Pride filled his chest as he caught sight of the rebellious expression in those blue eyes. With a smile, the Jedi Master lunged forward at the remaining Weequay, and with one swipe removed the barrel of the gun.

Jabba’s henchman stared wide-eyed at his smoking, useless blaster. Qui-Gon reached quickly into the Force and sent a wave of power at the Weequay, slamming him hard against the rock wall of the basin not far ahead. The alien crashed into the ground and lay still, unmoving.

Now only the Wookiee was left. Qui-Gon raised his saber in a ready position, prepared to lunge forward at any sign of movement from the formidable enemy.

The three figures remained still in the desert sand; two were armed and set to fight at the slightest hint of advance.

The Wookiee gave a sudden loud howl and aimed his bowcaster at Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master twisted, dodging the first shot and twirling his saber in a blindingly fast pattern, sending bolts ricocheting away in different directions. He advanced a step with every bolt that struck that white-hot plasma blade in his hands, crossing the desert swiftly toward the enemy. Close enough to strike, he swung his lightsaber at the furred creature’s chest.

The Wookiee was fast.

It dodged every lightning-fast swing with careful precision, side-stepping and ducking each flash of green light pulsing in the Jedi’s hands. With a growl it sent a large fist out at Qui-Gon, knocking the Jedi Master hard into the ground. The lightsaber slipped out of his hands and landed in the sand far away. The Jedi Master watched wide-eyed as the Wookiee sent another fist hurling at his face. He rolled, barely avoiding the punch that slammed a sizeable hole into the sand near his face.

Qui-Gon sent out a desperate kick to the Wookiee’s chest, sending it stumbling backward. That was enough time for the Jedi Master to lunge to his feet, but not enough time to avoid another fist that slammed hard into his side.

Qui-Gon cried out as he was hurled away into the ground again, ribs groaning in protest at the powerful punch. His vision swam as pain wracked his back and chest. The Wookiee let out a triumphant cry and aimed a shot at the Jedi Master’s head.

There was no time to reach for his saber in the Force. The plasma bolt hurled through the desert air, cutting a rapid pace for Qui-Gon’s head. An instant kill-shot.

The Force surged around the figures, swelling with so much power, the hairs on Qui-Gon’s arms stood on end. It was ancient and _invincible,_ weighing on the air in crushing density. So powerful. So frightening.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, head pounding at the authoritative heave in the Force. There was a crushing silence. The Jedi Master opened his eyes, wondering absently why he wasn’t dead yet. The bolt was perfectly aimed and should have struck him a while ago. What was happening?

Raising his head, Qui-Gon froze in surprise.

Obi-Wan stood above him, robes rippling in the Force waves that crashed in the air around them. His head was bowed, mouth gritted in an expression of deep concentration. His hand was outstretched and quivering slightly. Not a couple of feet from his outstretched fingertips, a bolt of crackling energy pulsed in the air, _frozen_.

Obi-Wan had used the Force to stop a blaster bolt.

Qui-Gon marveled at his Padawan’s Force power. He had never heard of someone with the ability to do such a thing. He was sure Yoda couldn’t even achieve such a feat. _How in the Force….?_

Obi-Wan swung his hand and the bolt hurled away, slamming hard into the ground beyond. The Wookiee seemed at a loss, black eyes wide in surprise.

Old Ben breathed deeply and raised his head. “You’re Black Krrsantan. The infamous Wookiee bounty hunter. I’ve heard of you. I know why you were forced to leave Kashyyyk. And how you’ve disgraced your people ever since. Jabba hired you, did he?”

The Wookiee howled and lunged at Obi-Wan. The old man moved quickly, blurring as he ducked the powerful first swing. He sent a pulse of Force energy at the black Wookiee, sending the bounty hunter flying backward into the sand.

The creature roared, enraged, and lunged at Ben, crossing the distance between them in two powerful leaps. Obi-Wan sidestepped the hooked arm and stumbled with a gasp. Immediately, the Wookiee slammed his fist into the old man’s chest.

Qui-Gon watched in despair as Obi-Wan hit the ground with a pained shout. The Wookiee was already moving forward, pulling the old man up from the sand and high into the hair. The creature sank his teeth into Ben’s arm. Obi-Wan screamed in agony and struggled fiercely in the powerful hands.

The creature grunted and slid his hairy arms up, one hand squeezing tightly around the elder’s neck.

Obi-Wan kicked weakly, straining against the powerful grip as he choked and gasped for air. With a grunt, he scratched feebly at the hairy arms. Qui-Gon shouted in anger. “Release him!” The Jedi Master reached for his lightsaber in the Force, felt the metal warm and respond. It whipped through the air and into his outstretched palm, igniting almost instantly in the tight grip.

Qui-Gon got to his feet wearily, brandishing the deadly green blade with precision. Fury pulsed through his body like poison, tightening his muscles in preparation to strike. He wanted to use the Force and hurl himself blindingly at the Wookiee enemy. He wanted to feel the plasma blade in his hands cut into the creature’s body. He wanted to avenge his Padawan’s hurt.

But one look into Obi-Wan’s eyes immediately erased the sithly thoughts from his mind. They were desperate and pleading…but not for air. _Release your anger,_ they screamed. _Embrace the light._

Qui-Gon obeyed immediately, closing his eyes and sinking deeply into the force like he had with Ben during their meditation sessions. The great entity was anxious, yet it swirled in his grasp, ready to be directed, ready to act on behalf of its hurt child. The Jedi Master filtered his dark thoughts away into the rushing nether, watching them dissipate in the light of the Force.

_Calm. Peace._

This was the Light side of the Force.

Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped open and he rushed forward, bolstered by the swirling eddies of the Force around him. They surged through his muscles, giving energy and strength. The Jedi Master was a blur through the air, crashing down upon the Wookiee bounty hunter with the strength and speed of a ship at lightspeed. The green saber slashed down at the furred face, wielded both by Qui-Gon’s hands and the Force.

The Wookiee screamed in rage and agony, clutching its face between two giant hands. Qui-Gon landed in the sand next to Obi-Wan and sank into a protective crouch over the unmoving form of his Padawan. He would not let the Wookiee creature touch his apprentice again. He would protect his Padawan until the end of his days.

With the flick of his wrist, Qui-Gon assumed his ready position, waiting for the bounty hunter to strike again. Krrsantan shot him a baleful look full of fierce pain and hatred. A deep burn cut through the creature’s right eye, splitting the skin open from the top of the forehead down the eye and curving slightly into the cheek. With a grunt, the creature hefted his bowcaster into his arms and spun away into the canyon. Qui-Gon watched him the entire way until the large figure disappeared into the distance.

A soft groan caused the Jedi Master to power down his lightsaber. Qui-Gon fell to his knees beside Obi-Wan and rested a hand on the old man’s forehead, frowning. Reaching out with the Force, he searched Ben’s signature.

It was saturated with pain and agony.

Obi-Wan moaned and jerked in the sand, writhing in hurt. His eyes were closed, face twisted in pain.

“Obi-Wan! Padawan!” The Jedi Master cried and pulled his apprentice into his arms. He stroked Ben’s cheeks with shaking palms and rocked the weakly-struggling form in his lap. Qui-Gon leaned down and pressed his lips to the warm forehead, desperate to give his apprentice respite from the pain.

“Wake up, my Padawan. Open your eyes, Obi-Wan, and see me!”

The eyes remained stubbornly shut.

With a moan, the Jedi Master rested his fingers against Obi-Wan’s temples and called on the Force for healing energy. The light surged in his mind and down his fingertips. Reaching out to his Padawan’s roiling signature, he sent a spear of healing energy into the shielded psyche.

Obi-Wan went limp.

The Jedi Master hugged his apprentice tighter, stroking his fingers down his weathered cheeks, through his soft white hair.

He had to get out of here. He needed to return to Ben’s hut. He couldn’t risk going into Mos Espa. The Wookiee was not far up ahead and might change his mind about revenge if he caught sight of Obi-Wan’s weakened form. Besides, the hut was not far behind…

Qui-Gon lifted his apprentice into his arms, wincing, as Obi-Wan let out a pained groan. With a brief pause to call on the force for strength, Qui-Gon sank his feet into the sand and leaped forward, sprinting into the desert beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I had to change the timeline so I could put Black Krrsantan in there. If you read any of the Star Wars comics (especially the ones with Ben Kenobi's journals) then you know who the character is. I just decided to introduce him much later in the timeline than he actually was. This story actually takes place a month or two before a New Hope...
> 
> Also, I'm pretty sure there are only two chapters left in this story! I can't believe it's almost over:) 
> 
> My friend also recently read it and asked if I was going to write another, but in the point-of-view of Obi-Wan. It's actually not a bad idea, but I think if I did anything like that, it would have to be a one-shot...what do you guys think?
> 
> Thank you for still reading, commenting, and giving kudos! You guys are the best!


	8. We Will See Each Other Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry. I took forever to post, I know. School was awful these past few weeks. But I had time to write this depressing chapter so enjoy:)....
> 
> Also I kinda sorta edited it, but if you see typos or errors, feel free to tell me. I am only one set of eyes:)

Qui-Gon cradled the limp form of his apprentice in his arms, sprinting over the heavy sand dunes toward the only home he knew on Tatooine. Ben’s hut.

Safety.

Obi-Wan had fallen silent in his arms long ago, only the occasional soft moan of pain cutting harshly through the _swish_ of robes brushing the sands and Qui-Gon’s tired and anxious pants.

The force swirled agitatedly around the pair, worried about its child of light. A surge of power fed strength to Qui-Gon’s bones, poured adrenaline into his aching limbs, pushed him on with the swiftness of the desert winds. To safety. To home.  

With every step, Qui-Gon reached further along his bond with Obi-Wan. It was a small, frail thing hidden deep in the recesses of the Force, cold and almost dead. But the Jedi Master coaxed the threads of the Force to awaken. Anxiously, he blew life into the tendrils of living energy and embraced the muted signature of his Padawan.

Obi-Wan was tired and in pain.

So much pain.

With a frown, Qui-Gon sped up.

Another aching whine.

He tightened his arms and sent out a fierce glare into the desert horizons. _Faster_ , he ground out in his mind. The sands were whipping around his ankles now, tossed roughly behind him as he tore through the desert ground.

Ben’s hut was a beacon of light over the final stretch of desert valley, buried amongst a mass of vaporator soldiers and white powder. Qui-Gon roughly pressed the button to open the door and stalked inside quickly, maneuvering the light body in his arms so Obi-Wan’s head wouldn’t smash into anything. In the back of his mind he could hear the old voice of his Padawan reprimanding him for not taking his shoes off before entering the main room and tracking sand all over the rug.

The thought almost made him smile.

Almost.

Obi-Wan’s cot was situated against the wall of the main room; a few blankets were folded ever so neatly on the top. Qui-Gon laid him out as gently as possible and gently carded his fingers through the snow-white hair. His old padawan moaned weakly and the broken sound made the Jedi Master’s legs give out. He fell to his knees before the trembling figure lying on the cot and stroked Obi-Wan’s cheek gently with the back of his hand, murmuring softly to his apprentice.

Those gray-blue eyes opened suddenly and alighted on the Jedi Master kneeling before him. Qui-Gon felt pinned under the agonizing gaze. And then it was gone. Obi-Wan’s beautiful, endless eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went utterly limp.

***

Qui-Gon wet a rag and laid it across his padawan’s forehead. Late in the night Obi-Wan’s temperature rose alarmingly high in fever. He writhed on the cot, cheeks flushed, soft sounds of agony escaping chapped lips.  A sheen of sweat glinted brightly on his forehead. His padawan’s eyes were lined with deep shadows as if he hadn’t slept his entire life. It made Qui-Gon’s heart ache painfully. He clutched Obi-Wan’s weathered hand to his chest, pressing gentle kisses to the cold fingers every now and then.

And all through the night he kept watch over his broken child.

***

When morning came, there was no change. None at all.

***

Obi-Wan mumbled fitfully in his sleep, the words barely discernible no matter how much Qui-Gon strained. He wondered if he should risk the trip down to Mos Espa and find a healer.

His padawan let out a quiet sigh and went silent.

Qui-Gon frowned and stroked the old man’s cheek.

The Force pulsed humbly. _Patience,_ it brushed his mind.

Qui-Gon nodded.

***

The Jedi Master surveyed the miserable array of supplies he’d lain out on the bantha hide rug. There were two bacta patches left, a roll of gauze, and a few painkillers. While his apprentice was quite meticulous in keeping up with his food and water stock in the hut, he seemed to have not paid attention at all to keeping an adequate medical supply.

Qui-Gon growled quietly in irritation, promising to scold his very old apprentice once he woke from his fevered state.

The Jedi Master returned to the cot and replaced the bacta patch on Obi-Wan’s arm.

***

As the third night dragged on, Qui-Gon despaired. Impossibly, his apprentice had gotten worse in the night. He writhed violently in his cot, moaning loudly, face ashen and twisted with agony.

Qui-Gon sat half on the cot and cradled the flailing child in his arms.

“Little one, _please_ ,” he begged, rocking the twisting form gently. “Please come back to me.”

He did not.

***

Late in the night Obi-Wan calmed his painful movements and lay still once more. Qui-Gon rested his forehead on the cot, relieved, absentmindedly stroking his Padawan’s hand as he thanked the Force.

***

Early morning. Qui-Gon raised his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. With a sigh he looked down at the peaceful figure curled in fetal position on the cot. He reached out and gently ran his fingers through the soft white hair. The Jedi Master leaned forward and pressed his lips to Obi-Wan’s forehead. He leaned back and smiled.

His padawan looked much better now. A healthy flush painted his cheeks, no longer pail and lined with fever sweat. Even the circles beneath his eyes had lightened considerably.

_Thank the Force,_ he thought, and rose from the cot to make tea.

***

The scream tore through his ears savagely, wailed in the sad song of one condemned to eternal despair.

The chipped cup slipped from his fingers and he watched detached as it shattered on the synth-stone floor of the hut, sending white shards scattering across the tan ground. The dark liquid inside struck the floor and turned the tan color to black.

Qui-Gon whirled toward his apprentice, drawing on the Force instinctively. He observed from the back of his mind, disconnected from the reality of what was happening to the pained figure on the cot. He only knew that his Padawan was hurt. And he only knew that he must heal his broken child.

 The Jedi Master laid his palm on Obi-Wan’s forehead and called on that great power that saturated the air around them, the entity that rushed and bounded with limitless life and energy.

The Force surged in his mind and he reached for his Padawan’s weak signature. Qui-Gon effortlessly molded his mind to the elder man’s and sent tendrils of healing energy, thoughts of love and admiration, memories of unadulterated joy and endearment through their strengthening bond.  

_Come back to me, my own._

Obi-Wan’s agony rolled off his signature in waves and Qui-Gon doused the flames of pain with warmth.

_Come back to me little one._

He pressed the old man close to his body and the Force surrounded the pair with healing energy and comfort. Qui-Gon rested his face in his Padawan’s hair. Obi-Wan’s whimpers were quieting.

_Yes. Return to me, Padawan. Hear my voice._

The Jedi Master rocked the form gently in his arms, threading the wounded signature with love.

The shields around his apprentice’s mind were as solid as durasteel, trapping his child in a fort of agony. Qui-Gon wrapped the Force around his mind and, with a soft sound of regret, slammed hard on the barriers lined immovable in Obi-Wan’s mind.

Deep in his head and in his heart, he knew that breaking those shields would hurt his Padawan beyond measure.

_It must be done,_ the Force pressed.

The Jedi Master hammered blow after blow against those impenetrable shields, aware that in reality, Obi-Wan was screaming in pain. His padawan tried weakly to move away from the man breaking into his mind and failed.

_Forgive me, little one,_ he whispered along the bond that stretched between both their minds and hearts and souls.

_Forgive me._

The Force amassed, twisting into a burst of energy that speared and whirled to form a bright-tipped spear of strength. Qui-Gon struck at the years-old barriers shielding the mind of his apprentice.

 

Obi-Wan arched his back and screamed.

 

The Force exploded in grief and pain, saturated with darkness and guilt and misery and despair.

The old man in his arms cried out, voice hoarse with suffering, with endless, gasping torment.

 

“ _Nooooo! Please!”_

 

Fingers twisted in Qui-Gon’s tunic.

_“Too late…always too late….not him…Force not_ him.

_It’s my fault. Always my fault._

_I should have died_ there _...before I ever_ brought _him here!”_

 

Qui-Gon felt the warm fire of tears sliding like poison down his cheeks. He could only rock the body in his arms, could only watch as his Padawan moaned and burned and confessed his greatest agony.

 

“ _Don’t make me kill him. Not him. He is like my brother. I cannot do it!”_

 

Obi-Wan writhed in his arms, broken and shattered. The desolation weighing heavily in the air was so tangible. Qui-Gon’s throat closed in grief as he watched his child suffer.

There was _nothing_ he could do.

_“You were my_ brother _! I_ loved _you!”_

Obi-Wan sobbed. His soul wilted in hopeless despair, endless grief. So shriveled and broken.

Shattered.

 

“ _I loved you,”_ he whispered, weeping. “ _But I could not save you.”_

 

Qui-Gon embraced the shattered man in his arms tightly, burying his face into soft white hair. Obi-Wan curled in his arms, clutching at the Jedi Master’s tunics as he dissolved into tears.

The Force lapped gently at their minds like foamed waves upon a shore. It sheltered both men, wrapped the two grieving souls in a blanket of love and warmth.

And the Jedi were left to their healing.

***

Qui-Gon stroked his Padawan’s cheek lightly with the tip of his fingers. He gazed at the figure lying next to him with love. Gray-blue eyes stared back at him deeply, silently. They were relieved and grateful.

The Jedi Master did not speak. Neither did Obi-Wan. The two Jedi only watched and healed wounds that were not seen but felt. Wounds that split deeply along the bone. Wounds that lashed the soul. Painful wounds. Shattering wounds.

Wounds not easily healed.

But heal they did with each second that ticked by, each stroke of tipped fingers upon a warm cheek, each thought of love sent along a bond that, while once snapped, now tethered whole and unbreakable.

“Master.” Obi-Wan murmured simply.

Qui-Gon laid his hand on his Padawan’s cheek and raised an eyebrow expectantly. His apprentice smiled wryly then sighed. The gray-blue eyes shifted away, past Qui-Gon and the hut on Tatooine, away to some past, remembering.

The Jedi Master waited patiently.

Obi-Wan sat up and rested his head against the wall, staring into the nothingness as he spoke quietly. “I’m sorry, Qui-Gon. You should not have had to experience that.”

The Jedi Master rose as well and peered anxiously into Ben’s face. “Why do you suffer so greatly, Padawan?”

A bitter chuckle. “I am meant for infinite sadness.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed. “No one is born destined to be tormented. No one is made to suffer.”

Obi-Wan sighed quietly. “I have lived here on this dusty planet for almost twenty years, Master Jinn. But I am not alive. Not here. Not alive here. I died that day on a volcanic planet, burned and consumed by fire and smoke.”

The Jedi Master wondered absently if Obi-Wan had seen a vision during his fevered state or hallucinated. Perhaps he was seeing things even now.

“You think me insane, Qui-Gon. The observation is not far off. I only exist here. I do not live. And soon this life will fall away and I will become something else entirely to be used at the Force’s will.”

Qui-Gon glared at him. “Do not speak so freely of your death, Obi-Wan. It will not happen. Not while I am here.”

Obi-Wan smiled. A resigned, pitiful smile. “You will not always be around, Qui-Gon Jinn. And if it is the Force’s will, it will be done. You can’t stop it anymore than you can stop the suns from setting.”

Shmi had said something similar to Ani on Tatooine in another time, another dimension, another reality. Perhaps all Tatooinian peoples’ heart beat in the same dry rhythm of the desert, the same whispering melody of sandy wastelands and barren valleys. Obi-Wan had become one of them. A Coruscanti child no longer.

“Be still, Master Jedi, for that time is not yet here. I still have a purpose. I still have a duty to fulfill.”

Qui-Gon ran his fingers over the thick blankets strewn about the cot. “What is your purpose, Obi-Wan?”

The old man turned to him. His face was weathered and wrinkled in old age, lined with years of experience, carved with limitless wisdom. Lips curved into the first real smile Qui-Gon had seen in what seemed eternity. “Hope.” He murmured, eyes shining.

***

Qui-Gon followed the old man up the familiar sand paths to their meditation spot. He walked with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, two steps behind and to the left of the old man.

The elder was a broken being no longer. Never had the small figure seemed as powerful as he was now, confidently striding through the sands, Force signature radiating with authority. His soul, once shattered, had been healed, fortified. Qui-Gon marveled at the durasteel will of his Padawan and his teacher.

They stopped among the hills of sand staring into each other’s eyes. Blue and gray.

 

And the Jedi Master knew.

 

This was the last time he would see Ben Kenobi, the last time he would see Tatooine and meditate among the Force winds and sands, the last time he would drink Tander Tea with a Crazy Old Wizard that reigned among the sentient beings of a desert kingdom. This was the last time he would be taught by a child of the Force. A being shaped from the cloth of the Force’s soul itself.

Qui-Gon lowered his head to hide the tears that slipped down his cheeks.

A tender hand raised his chin. “Do not mourn, Master Jinn. Focus on the here and now, remember? There is still a final lesson the Force desires you to learn.”

Qui-Gon sighed. “And what lesson would that be, Oh Master mine?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and smiled wryly. “Always the maverick, Master Jinn. You were sent here for one purpose, Qui-Gon: to oversee the future. The Force has granted you the Secret of the Whills. The knowledge of immortality, a gift not to be taken lightly or squandered.”

Immortality. The Jedi Master’s eyes widened. “Why-” he began only to be cut off.

“There is no why, Jedi. There is only the Force and its will. Here and now. Accept this knowledge and _learn_ , Qui-Gon.”

So the Jedi Master bowed deeply to the weathered and wrinkled figure.

Obi-Wan raised his hand and the Force surged, bringing up a familiar mass of sand to hover in the air between the two Jedi Masters.

“Knowledge is granted in pieces and steps. Line upon line did you learn, Master Jinn. You were taught to control the millions of pieces that make up a whole, to connect with the grains of a being that has one mind and many minds. You accomplished this task, Qui-Gon Jinn, so that you could achieve another greater expectation. Immortality is the retaining of the conscience after death, Master Jedi.

Your mind is the sands. It exists in parts that make a greater conscious, pieces and gears that work to their own rhythms and duties and purposes to spur on a great machine of unmatched complexity. They are parts of _you_ , Master. And each is a stubborn and willing soul that equates every grain in this pile of sand.

You have learned to understand yourself here, Qui-Gon Jinn. You have been made aware of your faults and strengths. Use that knowledge when the time comes, Master. Remember what you have been taught. Exist in the future and in the moment. Only then will you achieve what many have sought after and few attained.”

Qui-Gon lifted his hand and let his fingers run in the stream of sands that flowed past. His heart was full and breaking at the same time.

For this was it.

Finality.

He bowed to the man he called Padawan and teacher. “I will do as the Force wills and make you proud, my Obi-Wan. My Master.”

Tears pooled in the gray-blue eyes before him. A hand was pressed to his cheek. “We will see each other again, Master. I believe that.”

And before Qui-Gon could respond and embrace the man that filled his heart with light, the Force surged and flowed in an astonishing show of power. It spun and whirled, ripping the Jedi Master away from blue-gray eyes and lips that murmured a passing phrase.

And as Qui-Gon’s heart despaired, black filled his conscious and the echoes of his Padawan’s final words rang and dispelled in his ears. _May the Force be with you. Always._

And the Jedi Master knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a ton of quotes in here. Some from the ROTS novel, Labyrinth of Evil, A New Hope, and the Force Awakens.   
> Only one more chapter to go and this project will officially be finished! I can't wait! The journey has been a long albeit exciting one:)  
> Please comment and review (if you'd like). We authors live for the notifications that appear saying someone posted a comment:) It certainly makes my day! 
> 
> You can also catch me on Tumblr. I'm jedialo21  
> Thanks!


	9. Grief and Triumph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...

Qui-Gon dreamed that he was buried beneath a great mass of sand. His body was smothered under each grain, slipping further and further under the sediment waters. The weight pressed down hard on his throat and chest, choking him. He gasped, frantically straining for breath under the crushing weight.

_Force, help me,_ he cried into the deep void in his mind where the darkness sat coiled like a desert adder, languidly sliding along the surface of his conscious, waiting for the moment to strike with poisoned fangs. Where was the light? Where was the Force?

Where was Ben?

_Obi-Wan,_ he gasped, plunging into the vastness, searching for the glowing strand that encapsulated their bond. Where was his child of light?

There was a white flash somewhere close to him and he lurched toward it.

White. White hair that was soft beneath his fingers.

_Obi-Wan. Ben_.

Another flash and a quiet chuckle.

Oh, he knew that sound like he knew the banthas’ calls in the desert morning. Or the quiet hum of Ben’s coolant system coming to life in the dank corner of the kitchen it was unceremoniously kept in. He knew that musical sound like he knew the song of the Force when he called to it.

That was Obi-Wan. That was Ben.

Images filled his mind, blinking into visibility and disappearing almost immediately after. They were beautiful memories of his apprentice, his child of light. He could see the way his boy would throw his head back when he laughed. There was such joy, such carefree abandon flowing _wild_ in those gray-blue eyes. His laugh was bold. Musical. The Force _shone_ when its child laughed.

_Obi-Wan._

Another image. Qui-Gon watched the way his apprentice’s eyebrows drew together in confusion or twisted in an amused smirk. This was a look he knew quite well. His Padawan enjoyed poking fun. He delighted in the sarcastic wit that could turn the tides of trouble from dark despair to amusement. The evidence of his mirth glinted in those gray-blue eyes.

_Padawan._

The images sped up, flickering through the darkness in his mind with the speed of a ship entering hyperspace.

There were his missions with Obi-Wan, teaching him the intricacies of diplomacy, moving skillfully through Master/Padawan katas, matching form and breath in the Force.

There were his memories of meditating in the mornings and nights, sitting cross-legged across from one another on the floor, sharing in the Force bond that connected their souls.

There was laughter and jest, tender moments that prompted fond tugs on a growing braid.

And there were darker moments carrying his limp child through the Halls of Healing, holding his Padawan’s hand over the rails of a sick bed.

There were the darker moments when his Padawan recoiled from his touch and their bond was smothered in the shields raised between them. The moment when betrayal had echoed so loudly through their bond in the Council Chamber when Qui-Gon announced his intention to train Anakin. Or the betrayal on the younger face of his apprentice when the Jedi Master first rejected him.

_Oh, Obi-Wan._

The images shifted. Now his Padawan was older, much older. His young, virile face was etched with deep lines, weathered, wrinkled, pained. There were his gray-blue eyes, no longer sparkling. They carried deep in their stormy orbs the weight of one who holds the world on his burdened shoulders. They were the eyes of a wise old teacher, one who has seen too much.

He remembered the quiet, peaceful air that surrounded his old apprentice. In Ben’s hut, Qui-Gon had felt safe and secure. The desert was a place he could be cared for. Life was so simple and strangely beautiful in its plain moments. The desert was a barren place, yet full of liveliness.

_Focus, Master Jinn._

The wry tone cut through the haze in his mind and he raised his head, gasping as if he had been holding his breath underwater.

That was Ben’s voice.

_You are treading in places you should not go, Master Qui-Gon. Open your eyes._

Qui-Gon turned to the sound of his Padawan’s voice, but the sentence echoed endlessly through his mind. There was nowhere to go. The dark in his mind filled the cracks and crevices in every corner. There was no direction, no up or down, left or right. There was just dark. Pressing dark. Smothering dark.

_Focus, Master Jedi._

Qui-Gon froze in the darkness.

Focus. He needed to focus. He needed to listen to his Padawan and his Master.

The darkness was hollow and silent in his head, foreboding. But just beneath its thick hide, Qui-Gon could hear the gentle song of the Force.

He called out to it, imagining his voice splitting the walls of black in his head, cutting a path to the great power.

There was light ahead.

And Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan was ahead.

Open your eyes. Those were the words of his old apprentice. Qui-Gon narrowed his focus on the light, letting it warp and grow bigger, brighten into a blinding flare. He embraced the flood of the Force as it twisted through his veins, changing his blood to liquid fire. It moved through him, violent as the crashing sea and gentle as a still pond, raging and healing all at once.

_Open your eyes,_ it commanded, flooding his limbs with the strength of durasteel.

The Jedi Master imagined the sand that buried his body in crushing weight and clawed at the clumps of sediment that layered over his body. The dark would not take him. No. He would honor his old Padawan.

_Open your eyes,_ the Force commanded, gently now.

And Qui-Gon did.

***

“Qui-Gon sir, Qui-Gon sir! You have to wake up.” The young voice cut through the haze in the Jedi Master’s head. He blinked painfully against the sudden glare of artificial light. The voice was accompanied by an insistent tug on his tunics. “Qui-Gon sir, come on! Padme said we’ll be landing soon!”

Qui-Gon groaned and sat up, taking in the appearance of the small child at his bedside. Anakin.

 A fond smile curled the Jedi Master’s lips as he watched the excitement ripple in the Force almost visibly around the child.

“You must not have gotten a lot of sleep last night in your excitement,” he murmured, swinging his legs over the cot.

Anakin reddened and began twisting his fingers nervously. “I’ve never been off Tatooine. Well, except when we went to Coruscant. Padme told me Naboo is the most beautiful planet in the _whole galaxy._ She said the planet was covered in mountains and trees!”

Qui-Gon chuckled and reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “I am sure you will love her planet. Naboo is a beautiful place. But first we must make it so.”

Anakin peered mournfully up at him. “Padme said her people were dying. What if we get there and it’s too late?”

Pain twisted in Qui-Gon’s heart. The young boy was already so selfless and pure. He was worried about Naboo’s people, citizens he had never met, people who were born free. Anakin would be a magnificent Knight one day.

“Anakin,” He whispered intently and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We must concentrate on here and now. Worrying about something that might not come to pass will unbalance us. We will lose focus of what is important. Have faith in the Force, my young friend. It will not lead you astray.”

Anakin nodded and offered him a trembling smile.

The Jedi Master gently took the boy’s hand and led him out of the room.

***

Qui-Gon did not see his Padawan until the ship landed deep in wild Gungan territory. Obi-Wan had effortlessly managed to avoid seeing or talking to the Jedi Master, moving purposefully from the cockpit of the ship to the throne room to the lower deck. Agony tore through Qui-Gon’s heart as he realized how much his Padawan desired to be away from him. Their bond, once open and light, was strained and smothered in the shields Obi-Wan had built around his mind.

They were strong and impenetrable.

The Jedi Master had lived in Ben’s hut for weeks, surrounded by the old man’s comforting Force presence. Old Ben was always easy to speak to. The elder man listened to what Qui-Gon had to say, offering advice or commending praise. They could debate endlessly on some topics and their discussions were good-natured and refreshing. The abrupt change to cold dismissal was hard for Qui-Gon to accept.

The Jedi Master felt a soft drum reverberate through the Queen’s starship.

They had landed.

He rose from his seat in the main hold and pulled Anakin to his side. The boy was shaking with excitement. It lightened Qui-Gon’s heart to see the child-like eagerness and wonder on Anakin’s face.

The pair followed the retinue of royal guards off the boarding ramp, following behind the Queen and her handmaidens. Anakin clutched the Jedi Master’s hand tightly, gasping softly as he took in the lush jungles of Naboo.

“I’ve never seen this much green in the whole galaxy,” the boy whispered, mesmerized by the products of the Living Force.

Qui-Gon squeezed the boy’s fingers and released him to chase down Padme. The boy was already calling out to her in sheer excitement.

The Jedi Master watched him go with a small smile.

His gaze drifted off into the distance, toward Naboo’s horizon. It was strange to see only one burning orb in the sky. He had grown so attached to life on Tatooine, working with the moisture vaporators out in the glare of the twin suns. There was no desert breeze to shift his hair and cool his skin from the heat. There was only the hot brush of air filtering from the jungles beyond.

Qui-Gon frowned. He imagined that Ben was moving now around his Tatooinian hut, sipping tea and staring out into the nothingness of his home, caught in the memories of the past. Perhaps he was inspecting the vaporators, stopping to do small repairs on the great machines standing like soldiers in the desert fields. Or perhaps the old man was sitting in the sands behind his house, meditating, shaping the grains of sand around him into living, moving figures.

A light tug on the bond drew Qui-Gon’s thoughts away from Tatooine. Obi-Wan was making his way hesitantly to the Jedi Master’s side. His gray-blue eyes were troubled and pained.

“Jar Jar is on his way to the Gungan City, Master.”

Ah. So they were going to initiate small conversation first.

“Good,” he murmured in reply and again turned his gaze to the Naboo horizon. His vision swam in and out of reality, replacing the large sun in the distance with two smaller ones.

“Do you think the Queen’s idea will work?”

Qui-Gon directed his gaze to his apprentice. He had never realized until now how much Obi-Wan had grown from the small, emotional initiate from years ago to the mature Padawan before him, ready to move on from being tied to such an old master. It twisted his heart to realize he would be Knighting Obi-Wan so soon.

“The Gungans will not be so easily swayed. And we cannot use our powers to help her.” The Jedi Master looked away again. Seeing the gray-blue eyes of his apprentice reminded him so much of Old Ben. The intensity in both their gazes was slightly unsettling. Qui-Gon was still living in the future on Tatooine. It was still a shock to realize he was back in the present. So much had happened in the future’s timeline. He missed the comfort of the old man on the desert planet. Qui-Gon knew he must let go of his attachment to a life that was not his, but for once it was almost impossible to focus on the moment.

“I-I’m sorry about my behavior, Master. It’s not my place to disagree with you about the boy. And I am grateful you think I’m ready to take the trials.”

The Jedi Master turned toward his apprentice, surprised. His Padawan really had grown. Obi-Wan was practically a Knight already. An ache in the Jedi Master’s heart made him realize he had kept his apprentice at his side for far too long. Obi-Wan had been ready for Knighthood for a long time. But attachment had clouded Qui-Gon’s judgment and he had stubbornly refused to let his child go.

No. Not his child. Obi-Wan was a man now, a Knight.

“You’ve been a good apprentice, Obi-Wan,” the Jedi Master murmured quietly through the pain in his heart and his throat and his soul. Now he could see the pure light of his apprentice.

Now, his vision wasn’t swimming with twin suns hanging blindingly over a desert. His gaze was focused on a pair of gray-blue eyes that matched another’s. His gaze was focused on a face that he had deeply respected, a face from the future. The Padawan that stood before him was a silhouette of the powerful man he would become. Ben. And when Qui-Gon’s eyes shifted over Obi-Wan’s hair and face and eyes, he could imagine a weathered, knowledgeable face framed by soft, white hair. Ben. Obi-Wan.

“And you’re a much wiser man than I am,” he continued with a soft chuckle, remembering every moment Ben had scolded him for not listening to the Force, remembering every moment Ben had sat down, taken Qui-Gon’s hand, and offered him words of prudence and praise.

“I foresee you will become a great Jedi Knight.” The Jedi Master frowned slightly, remembering the awful circumstances of the future. The Jedi had been purged from the galaxy and replaced with a tyrannical empire. It was painful to realize that Ben had not gotten the chance to experience a full and complete life as a Jedi Master.

Qui-Gon offered a half smile.

Perhaps Ben was not a Jedi, but he had studied the Force beyond that of any other living Jedi. He was certainly great even without the title. Great, yet…sad.

Living so closely with Old Ben had given Qui-Gon much to observe. As much as the elder man was content in his Force abilities and teachings, he had never truly been… _whole._ Something terrible had happened in his life. The Jedi Master suspected that the ‘something’ extended far beyond the horrors of the Jedi Purge. Something had broken his Padawan’s heart, shattered his soul beyond repair.

It filled Qui-Gon’s heart with anger and agony both.

The Jedi Master laid a hand gently on his Padawans’ shoulder, vowing to protect his child of light from whatever pain had damaged his older self beyond repair.

_The future is not so easily changed,_ the Force warned him quietly.

And like a dreadful testament to the foreboding words, the planet of Naboo became darker, as if something evil had suddenly staked a claim to it. Qui-Gon was reminded of the desert-adder in his dream, coiled and prepared to deliver a quick, fatal strike.

***

This was the evil that had burned like poison in the Force. It was a whirling, powerful mass that weaved in and out of the dancing sabers belonging to both Jedi. The creature bared its teeth in an animalistic fashion, ire cracking like fire in its glowing yellow eyes. Sith eyes.

The older Jedi master initiated defensive maneuvers against the dark being, keeping part of his attention on his younger charge whose strikes were less refined and accurate. The enemy was highly skilled and trained in the ways of the Force. Worry rumbled just beneath the Jedi’s calm exterior, held at bay by the Light side of the Force.

The creature turned calculated gazes between both Jedi. His own master had taught him how to exploit the weaknesses of others and use those flaws treacherously against his enemies. With every strike and parry against the Light users, his understanding of their character, of their weaknesses, grew. Lashing out with the Dark side of the Force, he could sense a large corridor behind him, and beyond the hall, the generator’s core.

The creature grinned as his plan began to take shape more clearly in his head. Only a little longer. Only a few more moves and distractions. With renewed vigor, he attacked the Jedi furiously.

***

Qui-Gon sank to the ground, struggling to control his heaving chest and even out his breathing. The sith warrior, or whatever it was, was trained extensively in the Force. The being was quick and merciless, raining blow after blow against the Jedi Master and his Padawan. It was becoming more and more difficult for the pair to hold their own against the fight. And the creature, it seemed, was not tiring at all.

Qui-Gon could feel the nervous energy surrounding his Padawan, pacing mildly just outside the first shield blocking the entrance to the corridor. He wanted desperately to call out to his apprentice and remind him to release his anxiety and fear into the Force, but he needed to focus now on remaining calm and open to the will of the Light side of the great power.

He closed his eyes and sank deeply into meditation.

_Walk with me, Master Jinn._

That was Ben’s voice calling from the outer reaches of the Force. Qui-Gon followed the echoing voice deeper into the wellspring of the great power.

_You were sent for one purpose: to oversee the future._

_Come closer and learn the Secret of the Whills._

Images began to shift by him endlessly. They flashed into focus and disappeared with blinding speed, impossible for the human eye to perceive individually. But the Force surged around him, strengthening his gaze, transfiguring his presence as he viewed the scenes before him.

This was the future, Qui-Gon realized with no small amount of surprise.

I am being shown the future.

 

The pieces were jumbled, a great colorful mess.

The void around him echoed with the sounds of blaster fire and screams and shouts. The images flashed red and blue, over and over again.

There was an army of soldiers in white, marching in perfect tandem up the ramps of large, orbit-deigned ships.

Planets roiled with conflict and death and disaster and despair.

The galaxy was darkening, leeched of light and color by some darkness, some poison from the inside.

Lightsabers glowed in the hazy scenes.

Screams and cries.

And suddenly…betrayal.

                _Execute Order 66._

_Good soldiers follow orders._

The galaxy shifted abruptly and the Force gave a shudder as if in pain. The darkness growing at the galaxy’s center pulsed and exploded outward.

Children wailing, crying out.

There was death.

Death.

Death and screams and silenced screams.

                _Not even the younglings survived…._

The galaxy was being ripped apart, the Force was being shredded. It thrashed wildly about in the throes of the darkness, clinging to something…anything…

Hope.

                _I will take the boy and watch over him…_

_I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi…like my father before me!_

It glowed like a fledgling fire wavering under harsh winds. The darkness beat heavily upon it, wanting to extinguish it. Turn it cold. Turn it dark.

                _Join me…and together we will rule the galaxy!_

_I’ll NEVER join you!_

But the fire seemed to catch and grow and spread. It pierced the darkness and the darkness wailed back in agony, flinched away from the terrible, wonderful heat.

There was mechanical breathing somewhere in the distance, tapering off as if failing. Heavy, struggling gasps.

                _I won’t leave you Father._

The darkness skittered hesitantly around the fire and reached out a trembling hand.

                _I want to look upon you with my own eyes._

The fire caught and spread.

                _I won’t leave you. I can’t, Father. Come with me, please!_

The darkness accepted it humbly and burned under the heat and glow. Under the pure light. Under the warmth.

                _You were right…you were right._

With a sigh, the darkness surrendered to light and knew no more.

 

 

Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped open as the final shield opened. The Jedi Master lunged at the dark creature, knowing in the back of his mind what needed to be done.

He struck out with a brightly glowing lightsaber, forcing the Sith warrior to retreat. The creature retaliated, driving hard fast strikes up, down, left, right.

Faster the sabers danced.

In deadly arcs and whirls, parries and strikes.

 

Qui-Gon watched and knew.

 

The Force gave a brilliant cry, half in agony, half in triumph.

The glowing blade slid easily into his stomach.

There was a burning, aching pain that jerked mercilessly. The Jedi Master’s eyes widened. Oh how he wanted to arch his back and scream. The Force surged forward to meet the falling body, cradling its child in the depths of its power, protecting the Jedi from further pain.

The bond with his Padawan began to snap, driving spikes of _agony_ through his head and heart.

He knew what had to be done.

He knew what would be done.

He knew the outcome of this suffering, this sorrow, this anguish.

_Hope_ , he thought, desperately trying to send the word along the shattered bond. _Forgive me, my own._

Darkness crept into his eyes, blinding him from seeing his child of light, his Padawan fighting brilliantly against the Sith warrior. Pride surged through his heart even as the pain did. He wanted to _see._ He _needed_ to see his Obi-Wan one final time.

And then there were gentle hands sliding beneath his body, gathering him up against something warm.

Qui-Gon hadn’t realized how cold he was.

He was so cold.

Why was it so cold?

The Jedi Master opened his eyes. When had he closed them?

Obi-Wan. Where was Obi-Wan?

There.

There was his precious light.

Gray-blue eyes. Gray-blue eyes and Tatooine suns.

_We will see each other again. I believe that._

_I will wait for you Ben, always._

“Obi-Wan…” He whispered, pushing the words painfully from his closed throat.

There was blood in his mouth.

The boy sobbed and pressed the Jedi Master tighter against his body.

Qui-Gon smiled.

_Obi-Wan._

_Do not fear, my own._

_I will be with you. I will always be with you._

 

He was too weak. Their bond was broken, shattered, _painful._ He wanted his child of light to hear his words. They were from his heart.

 

But the bond was too weak.

 

Too painful.

 

“Train the boy…” He trailed off, blinking desperately past the darkening spots in his eyes.

_Don’t take him away. Force don’t take him away. Can’t see him. Need to see him. Obi-Wan._

_Ben._

“Yes, Master,” his Padawan trembled and held him tighter.

No pain. There was no pain anymore.

But the bond. He couldn’t feel the bond.

He couldn’t see. Where were the gray-blue eyes? Why couldn’t he see?

Qui-Gon panicked and reached up to trace the boy’s cheek.

_I am here, my own. Always here._

“He is…the Chosen One…” His breathing hitched.

Warmth settled into his bones.

_Force, not yet._

“He…will bring balance,” Qui-Gon managed.

Oh, Force. He was dying too quickly. He couldn’t explain.

_Hope, my own. You will have hope._

But there was no bond. It was torn away.

Agony.

Where was the bond? Where was his child of light?

Qui-Gon’s fingers were clenched desperately. Warmth flooded through the cold joints.

The Jedi Master could see.

One final time. He could see his child of light.

_Obi-Wan, my own, I am with you always._

_I love you, always._

 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes one final time and surrendered to the Force.

 

***

Ben Kenobi kneeled in the sands behind his hut and plunged his fingers into the ground.

He had felt the great surge in the Force, the call of grief and of triumph.

His heart burned in despair for a boy in another plane of time, in another existence.

There was nothing to be done, though. This was the will of the Force.

Now all that was left was hope.

Ben raised his head and smiled.

There was a new star in the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for following me on this amazing journey! Your comments and kudos and support kept me going and posting throughout it all. And now the story is finally over.  
> If you guys liked it, please comment. Or comment if you have anything to say, really. I love to read them. They truly make my day...
> 
> I have a couple ideas floating around and some parts of stories in the works, so you won't be seeing the last of me in the star wars fandom:)  
> And with that being said,  
> May the Force Be With You Always

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by said dream and also my desire for more Star Wars time travel fics. If anybody wants me to continue I definitely will....hopefully with better writing. (Honestly I'm just happy I made it past 5000 words)
> 
> The italicized words in the beginning are actual lines from the Phantom Menace...
> 
> And...uh...that's about it for notes:)


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